Fiendish Winds
by Esuerc Marcellus Voltimand
Summary: Dark forces are stirring on the horizon, and an ancient evil returns to Albion. Will one girl fall victim to their evil plans and join them, or will she fight and chase back the encroaching darkness? *OC is not Sparrow- rating may change*
1. Malicious Chase

I do not own anything relating to Fable II, although, sometimes the thought does cross my mind as to what it would be like to. Regardless, you can also find this story on my deviantart under the name of Esuerc

**Fiendish Winds -0-0- Chapter 1 -0-0- Esuerc Voltimand**

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**Malicious Chase**

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The carpet, dingy and sanguine in colour, wore away against the constant pacing about the small room, the floorboards beneath groaning violently even under the light pressure of her step. This was not an unusual occurrence, mind you. For long, the young girl had paced like so in deep concentration, her thoughts completely focused on what she had been so long preparing for… her "escape", as she would like to call it.

Hideous, the man was to her living in the Bloodstone Manor high atop the hill, securely tucked away from the foul refuse and putrescence that littered the streets beneath them like an undying plague. Not only his attitude, demeaning as it was, but his very existence, was disgusting to her. Constantly, she woke to the sound of his sick enjoyment- the pleasures of the body- and found herself unable to sleep the remainder of the night on many occasions due to that saddening fact.

But no more would she stand for it, she told herself upon coming to a stop in the center of the quaint, small room that had been given to her so many years ago by her employer. Today was the day, for better or for ill, that she would announce her "retirement" of her servitude to him. Feeling as though she held no debt to the man, putrid and perverse as he was, by taking on the job of scullery maid she held a secret pact with herself that now was the time she was to bid Goodbye.

Gathering the small assortment of things she owned in a satchel placed upon her back, the straps pulled snug about her shoulders, she took in a deep but shaking breath to calm herself. She would need all her nerve to stand tall against the man and announce her well deserved freedom. All would go according to plan, she thought. Surely, he had enough servants as it was to continue the jobs about the small Manor without noticeable lag from her departure. Lunacy, if would be, if he denied her request, no, her statement, more or less, simply due to this fact. It wasn't as though she was being paid for her services to the empty household, much to her dismay.

Regardless, she trotted quietly to the door on the far wall leading out to the balcony hanging just above the gallery, breathing deep before silently turning the latch and creeping out into the dimming hall. With evening approaching she knew it would be the best time to act; the darkness would fall and cover her tracks upon her escape… if it escalated to that point. Leaving the door open behind her to the now empty room she placed her hand upon the secure, carved railing preventing her fall into the gallery below, her eyes transfixed on the slender and lithe form of the man beneath her. His shadow cast en eerie scene about the room from his position before the roaring flames of the lively fireplace, his back to her with a relaxed hunch to his shoulders. It would seem that he was oblivious to her appearance.

Resisting the urge to forsake the plan completely she clenched her hand tightly about the railing, sighing and closing her eyes for a brief moment to collect herself. "Master Reaver." She pitched bravely, the typical accent of those of Albion not evident in her quiet voice. Try as hard as she might she couldn't help but feel the involuntary shiver course through her spine upon his icy eyes setting on her over his shoulder, leaning against the fireplace casually. Not expecting a vocal answer, she continued, gaining confidence in what she was doing without the thoughts of the repercussions of her next actions occurring to her.

"I am terribly sorry to inform you but I am here to announce that my servitude to you is over. With sincerest apologies, I—" She was cut short suddenly, caught up in the sight of him slowly turning fully to her, a typical malicious grin spread across the angular features of his handsome face. "I…I…" She stuttered at length, the very sight of his gaze taking the strength from her once well planned words.

With the shake of his head, his styled hair bouncing to and fro effortlessly, he laughed lowly and shot a charming, harmless smile up at her that surely hid his true ire. "Really, now?" He inquired, pivoting and leaning on his leg with his arms wrapped gingerly above his chest. "Taking your leave all too soon, are we? Wasn't aware that you had a choice in the matter, my dear." This angered her, her fists tightening in front of her as she leaned forward slightly on the creaking railing, preparing to release an onslaught of words that surely would have surprised even the Pirate King himself. But he merely laughed at her antics again, taking obvious enjoyment in the constantly changing emotions on her pale face. "Gale." He started in a coo, amusement evident in his all too suave voice that usually implied that he was hiding his annoyance. "Mind your next words with care. Redeem, if you must, the little respect I held for you."

Sighing again she opened her eyes to him, dark in colour, and aimed squarely at him. "I am not a child anymore. And as such, I am perfectly capable and responsible for my own decisions. With that said, I decide that it is my time to leave. I owe you no debt; that has long since been paid." Gale took a shaking step back from the railing to collect herself, regretting now her action to announce her departure to Reaver, thinking instead, that perhaps it would have been far smarter to simply flee without consent. All the same, she watched him place his hand gently upon his gun, the same signature smile on his attractive face, and pull it forth in a flash that caught the glow of the roaring fire to his backside.

With a short, painful intake of breath that stung her lungs like spring pollen Gale backed away farther, instantly regretting her decision for the umpteenth time in those past few seconds in her head.

In the blink of an eye, Gale narrowly dodged the bullet that screamed past her, biting its way past the elegant wallpaper and lodging itself deep in the wall behind her in the area where her head would have been moments before. She raced around the bend in the hall and leapt to the floor below over the railing of the second floor awning, her feet stinging with intense pain from the impact. In but a second, she recovered only to hear the door behind her burst open with a powerful kick from Reaver.

Surprisingly, he missed again, something that irked Gale considering the man's reputation, a fabled ability, with a gun, hitting the oak door that barred her from the world that she had so dearly missed. Giving chase, although leisurely as if to enjoy the "hunt" of one of the very few people that dared to speak out against him, Reaver strode out the door and into the courtyard to catch a glimpse of the young girl as she disappeared just behind the hill leading down into the squalor that was Bloodstone. Not wanting to exercise his full capabilities at the moment he quickly snapped his gloved fingers, catching the attention of the once idle guard standing to the left of the door, wagging his fingers in the direction of the escaping girl with the raise of his brow.

The young guard understood the gesture and tore himself from his post of leaning against the wall of the Manor, his heavy boots thumping on the hard cobblestone of the ground, whilst sprinting after Gale with his hammer drawn and at the ready; a short crop of blonde hair bouncing about from beneath his head wrap as he went. Casually, Reaver followed the pursuit, overly enjoyed that he would, at least for a long while, be able to shoot one of his many employees; a pleasure he had missed quite sorely.

Gale ran recklessly forward through the thinning thicket of people gathered in the marketplace, many of them heeding the scene as one that meant Reaver was not too far behind and escaping into their own homes for safety. Too soon, did she hear the guard at her heels, his large hammer thrown across his shoulders upon giving chase through the hilly terrain of the town, his deep, unsteady breaths echoing in her ear as he struggled to keep up with the serpentine fashion of how she ran. Eventually, hoping that he would give up the chase and inevitably return to the fuming Reaver with bad news, Gale made her way to the caves on the coast of the town, far away from the sights and smells of the marketplace for anyone to notice their disappearance. Seeing the Sinkhole cave in the crags, an outcropping just to her right leading out to the vast sea before her, she scurried into the darkness, taking a second look back over her shoulder to spy how close her pursuer was.

Gale came to a sudden halt at the sound of the floor beneath her moaning dangerously, creaking as it bent slightly downward under her soft padded boots. This posed a problem. A scream echoed through the cave with the thundering sounds of the boards snapping, the young guard close behind able to do nothing but break his stride at the lip of the new hole and look down to where he was certain he heard a deafening splash of water below. There would be no getting out of there, he mused silently to himself, relaxing his hold on the thick, leather-bound handle of his hammer.

"Fortenbrasse!" He heard his name called, turning about on his dug heels to look at the approaching Reaver at the mouth of the cave. "Oh my, how unfortunate for dear, little Gale." He jested, joining the guard's side to gaze down into the void. "Well now, that certainly is an inconvenience… but," Reaver laughed curtly and looked quickly to Fortenbrasse, "Nothing you certainly cannot handle. Tatty bye!" He backed away and swiftly brought a kick between his guard's shoulders, driving him down into the hole without so much as a hint of remorse across his handsome face.

"Do not tally, Fortenbrasse. I wish to have my dear Gale returned so that I may get to the matter of 'punishment' myself." Reaver called down with his gloved hand curved about his mouth, a smirk heard in his snarky voice and his gun now neatly placed back into the safety of its holster at his side.

Unbeknownst to the poor guard and the Pirate King, Gale's satchel had hooked onto one of the many exposed rocks jutting from the crooked sides of the deep hole, clinging limply, helpless, in the air above the water only to view the painful collision between Fortenbrasse and flotsam ridden surface pool below. Sure that Reaver was gone from earshot and her eyes now adjusting to the darkness of the void she swung slightly and clambered up the rock face, making her way back to the safety of solid ground in the entrance of the cave.

"Fortenbrasse." She called quietly, having known the guard's name from her work in the Manor. "You alright?" A groan emanated from him in response, surely struggling to stay above the surface of the algid water with the weight of the hammer on his back threatening to pull him down to his slow death. Even though she knew he was under the orders to capture and return her to Reaver a pain filled her chest with the thought of leaving him there to die. Instead, she shuffled through her belongings stashed away tightly in her bag, producing a thick, long line of rope that she began to uncoil and lower down to him. "Grab hold and I'll help you out." She ordered, knowing he would acknowledge and accept it for what it was. Unexpected help.

Groaning under the tremendous strain of his weight Gale trembled with every pull of the rope, glad for her gloves as they prevented the horrible burning that was bound to find its way through their thick hide. Regardless, the blonde, spiky crop of Fortenbrasse's noggin crowned the pit, his hands clutching wildly at the rocky ground to pull himself up the last few feet to safety at Gale's side.

Fortenbrasse collapsed, both of them panting, but he being the only one soaked to the marrow with water, dirt now covering his clothes and face from the dusty ground he so lazily laid his head upon. "Me garb's sallied, now." He announced with closed eyes, his accent thick and his voice hoarse but a welcome relief compared to the voices, raspy and high pitched as they were, of the other guards that Reaver constantly employed. "Mortifyin', it is."

This made Gale laugh softly, appreciating the fact the he had yet to come after her like his master ordered. "Can' very well hurt ye after ye helped me, now can I? Not real polite and bad form, that be." Fortenbrasse pushed himself up into a sitting position and relieved himself of his hammer, placing it on the ground and wiping the water from his gaunt face with a rough, gloved hand. Gale watched, entertained, as he attempted to fix the small tuft of hair running up his chin, failing and leaving it how it was to settle on draining the water collected in his boots. "Why'd he get mad at ye like tha', anyway, if ye don' mind me askin'?" He said at length, looking over at her crouched form beside him.

"I just wanted to leave." Gale admitted finally, her eyes dropping to the ground just in front of the square toes of her worn boots. "To go out and experience Albion for all it's worth." He agreed, nodding his head in approval, all the while slipping his boots back on up his bandaged legs, "Why are you here?" she dared to ask, cocking her head to the side.

Fortenbrasse chuckled cheerfully, his eyes curving with the smile etched on his lips, "I jus' needed money, is all. 'Eard Reaver paid well." Gale scoffed but grinned at him, finding this side to the otherwise unruly guard refreshing and enjoyable, to say the least.

A thought hit Gale like a bolt from the blue, her eyes widening suddenly. Fortenbrasse noted this and neared her slightly with his mouth hanging open unconsciously. "Ye alright?" He asked, concerned for her silence.

It was now or never, Gale thought. "I have a proposition for you." She sat her hands on her knees in a cross-legged fashion, "What is it that you really want to do in life? His face faltered, his eyes traveling to the entrance of Sinkhole Cave as if he would gain support from the fading light of the setting sun far out on the golden horizon.

He groaned lowly, tightening his belt like a nervous twitch. "Well, if ye really mus' know…" His eyes wandered again, "… I wan' to join the Assassination Society." Gale's eyes widened again, her mouth falling in disbelief. "I know, I know, I know." Fortenbrasse responded quickly, shaking his hands in front of him in defense, "Ain't tha' great a job choice, but seems fun to someone like me, ye know?"

She agreed, the guard letting out a much needed sigh of relief. "Wha's this ye were sayin' 'bout a proposition?"

Gale straightened, quickly remembering. "Right! Well, if you wanted to join the Society, and I wanted to get out of Bloodstone, we can…" She waited, seeing if he was getting the point she was so desperately trying to make. But he merely sat there, unfazed and waiting for her to continue. Not so bright, she wondered, rolling her eyes. "… Work together." She finished slowly, smiling genuinely at him.

Finally, he understood, joining her with a crooked grin of his own, "Really now?' He asked, sounding almost unconvinced, "How do ye suppose we get out. I ain't be goin' through Wraithmarsh. Too dangerous, an' don' know the way, an'—"

"Don't worry." She stopped him with a raised hand. Gale gave him a wry smirk, "I've got a plan."

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**Chapter 2-**

**--Journey Out of Bloodstone**

**Author's note:**

**Fortenbrasse is pronounced *four- ten- brah* just in case any of you were wondering. **

**Sparrow does not exist in this story, so don't expect to see him/her in here.  
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	2. Journey Out of Bloodstone

I do not own anything related to Fable II. Although, sometimes I wish that I did, but we all know that is never going to happen so no reason to hope. Anyway, I have this story up on my DEVIANTART under the name of ESUERC and art related to Fable II among other things. Look me up if you want, I don't care.

I also want to thank **spadestreetUSA **for reviewing my first chapter. Thank you so much for reading and taking time out of your schedule to type something so little that truly means so much to me.

**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS -0-0- ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 2**

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Eventually, after a long drawn out speech that Gale would have much preferred to avoid and a while of still convincing the surprisingly crafty guard Fortenbrasse, they came to what she considered an impasse. He merely told her, in an obvious jest upon seeing her increasing ire, that it was beneficial to them both if they waited until the fall of night before leaving, the shadows covering their tracks. The young girl understood what he meant and nodded in silent approval, shaking his hand in mutual agreement.

Gale, looking back on it with her eyes set on the last shimmers on the sea by the beauty of the setting sun, saw that their idea was planned well enough to work smoothly. Fortenbrasse, after sneaking back into the Manor would clandestinely collect supplies and return to her after the sun had set, and much to his dismay they would travel out of Bloodstone via the most seemingly impossible route… straight through the terrifying Wraithmarsh. But well deserved that name was, along with the many other choice words people labeled the gloomy area.

All the same, it proved to be the fastest and downright most straightforward route from Bloodstone, and in their heart of hearts the two hoped that Reaver was certainly smart enough not to give chase again into the swamp surrounding the town on three sides with the simple intention of "punishing" the duo for the abandonment of their duties. He wasn't that crazed… was he?

Regardless, Gale stood, waiting in the shadows of one of the many crowded buildings down along the stretch of the Waterfront, her anticipation making her palms sweat inside her thick gloves. All the while, she constantly ignored and downright refused the soliciting of the harlots wandering aimlessly around town that had stumbled across her in her hiding, having to laugh at them afterwards under her breath at their grumbling.

With the waning light of the evening sun spent and gone below the horizon she waited patiently, tapping her foot nervously against the cobblestone beneath her feet; scanning back and forth along the entirety of the road for any sign of the approach of Fortenbrasse. Soon her wait had been worth it, the tall, squared figure of the friendly guard silently approaching her with the guile of a cat, actually catching her off guard when he placed his large hand firmly on her drooping shoulders.

"Finally!" Gale whispered, feigning annoyance but smiling all the same. "Have you got everything?" She inquired, spying the large bag held lazily under Fortenbrasse's powerful arm, traveling up to his wandering eyes for an immediate answer.

Unconsciously, he cringed, shutting his eyes in a flutter with the slight twitch of his lips. "Not suprisin', Reaver nearly caught me. But he was too busy with one of them gals to notice my walkin' out." He raised a brow and looked around suspiciously as if any moment later Reaver would pop out of seemingly nowhere and fire at will upon them. That brought a small smile to Gale's face, one that she hid immediately from Fortenbrasse to avoid the awkwardness of him not getting the joke. It was certainly something she would have to remember when she was feeling down: the sight of Reaver popping out of a trashcan shouting curses with his gun drawn and at the ready.

All the same, Fortenbrasse heard her giggle and looked down to her small form strangely, forsaking her and shoving the bag of supplies into her arms to stop her short-lived enjoyment. "Alright. I be knowin' ye can't fight, so ye'll carry the supplies through Wraithmarsh, ye will." He pointed at his chest with his thumb, "I ain't be gettin' caught off guard by no Hollowman jus' 'cause I got a bag in me arms." He nudged her forward by the shoulder out of the alley and into the abandoned street, looking both ways, just to make sure, before he stepped out beside her into the open. This did nothing to reassure the young girl but all the same followed at Fortenbrasse's side as they silently made their way up the dirt road leading to Wraithmarsh, the incline beneath their feet on the hill doing nothing to deter them.

Uncharacteristically, Fortenbrasse stole a single glance at Wraithmarsh from atop the highest hill in the cemetery on the outskirts of the town not far behind them, and nearly turned around in obvious fright of the perils they were sure to endure when they entered. Gale stopped him, though, before he had the chance to scarper back to Bloodstone with his tail between his legs like a frightened animal. How dare he think he could join the Assassination Society with such a reckless lack of courage and determination that Gale apparently had more of at the moment!

Gale wanted to tell him this but decided against it, thinking that injuring his ego wouldn't be the brightest of ideas as it may cause him to leave her alone on her travel through Wraithmarsh. Instead, she settled with dragging him behind her by the collar of his striped vest, saying nothing but "Don't be yellow" to voice that he should be as brave as she, if not more so.

Hours passed like the gentle winds blowing in from the vast sea now far behind them; no turning back, it seemed. They had barely made any leeway through the perilous marsh and so far their journey had been easy and simple, not a single creature encountered or a hint of any other danger that may have loomed out in the dangerous wilds of the unknown. Fortenbrasse remained prepared near to Gale's side, his hammer slung over his shoulder lazily but at the ready should anything appear… Hollowmen, in particular, and carefully watched for moving fog that was the tell tale of a wicked banshee.

Never before had either of them seen one but they had heard the countless tales passed along by weary travelers and merchants boasting the fables like a bard would sing the praises of the heroes of days long since passed.

Gale walked slightly ahead of the much taller man, now realising her small stature compared to others as a whole, but did not dwell on it. Sure, she may have very well had a small Napoleon complex but that was to be expected, wasn't it? Beside the point, she bravely trudged forward through the moist, black soil caking her once clean boots, the smell of the bog something new to her. She gazed about at the mysteriously lit torches lining the road they currently traveled, tilting her head to the side in thought of who possible kept them all going day in and day out. Almost as much as her companion she became ever so wary of the looming darkness encompassing them, and soon she regretted the decision to leave at night when the marsh was the darkest and most dangerous.

"How'd the lanterns done stay lit?" Fortenbrasse inquired, almost as if he sensed her thoughts. Gale's short, ginger hair bounced a bit across her face as she turned to him, looking to the flames flickering strong within the lanterns hung above them on their hooked posts. From her increased unease she gulped hard and adjusted the black band holding back her hair behind her ears, nervously shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "I don' be likin' this, Squirt… somethin' ain't right." He continued quietly, unconsciously nearing her as his protective instinct heightened. He stole another wary glance out at the moon in the distance shrouded in vile, veiling fog, and spotted a hint of movement out along the thinning, black, lifeless trees. This only accentuated the fearful atmosphere hovering over the two travelers.

"Stay behind me." Fortenbrasse whispered gently to Gale, his tone surprising her.

Protectively standing in front of her he lowered his hammer from his shoulder so that the head of it rested on the cold ground, the metal coating its edges glimmering eerily in the lanterns' light as if it were drawn to it by an unseen force. Black shadows shifted amongst the dead trees, scurrying hurriedly by as if afraid if they stood too long in a single place they would be noticed. Too bad for them the large man had already done so, his instincts kicking in at the very real signs of danger. Gale stood hushed behind him like instructed, knowing better than to go against Fortenbrasse's current judgment as she looked back to where they just walked, cautious not to attract any attention to their now idle forms in the center of the dirt path.

As if knowing their fear a sudden strong wind flew past them and extinguished the once lively flames within the hanging lanterns running both ways down the path, their lights flickering and dying into the distance. "I told ye this be a bad idea." Fortenbrasse growled through gnashed teeth without looking over his shoulder at Gale, "But no, nobody wan' to done listen to poor ol' Fortenbrasse. He don' know wha' he's talkin' 'bout!"

"Will you shut up?" Gale whispered back in a quick sneer, the noises around them growing ever louder and closer with each passing second.

In a moment's notice the noises ceased, the silence unbearable to the two standing in the center of the road filled to the brim with fear. Fortenbrasse set his jaw tight and furrowed his brow as if preparing for the worse whilst Gale watched the darkness through strained eyes, clasping at the strap of her satchel slung over her shoulder.

With a scream escaping her lungs with a gasp Gale collided roughly with the ground, looking from turning onto her back only to see that it was Fortenbrasse who had shoved her. She went to protest but her eyes widened and she watched the scene play out before her in slow motion, her mouth agape in mid sentence.

A Balverine, its dirtied coat slicked with the foul waters of the marsh, its large, canine like mouth opened wide and its long claws outstretched, leapt at her but was stopped with the low swinging arc sent skyward by Fortenbrasse's mighty hammer. He nailed the beast square in the side of its narrowed, gaunt face, breaking its powerful, wide-opened maw so that a wicked crack resounded around it through the bog. The beast spun in mid-air limply head over heels until it made a rough landing on the path just behind Gale, rolling to a stop onto its stomach. It rose unsteadily, whimpering lowly as it scurried off back into the darkness, its hanging broken jaw swinging to and fro.

The battle was far from over, she knew, getting back to her feet on her quivering legs and joining Fortenbrasse at his side, the man grinning with glee. She should have expected this, Gale thought, seeing how this must have been the first bit of action in a long while that the guard was experiencing; thinking it better than wasting the entirety of his life away guarding Reaver's Manor.

"Silver augment." Fortenbrasse announced proudly at length, pointing to the glowing sheen of his massive hammer Gale thought to be just polished metal. "Bane o' Balverines, it be." He took a wide stance and looked to Gale for a short moment with a grin before turning his eyes back ahead of him to survey their surroundings. Gale joined him, her ears picking up on the low rumbles and growls of more approaching Balverines.

She grasped his shoulder tightly, "Behind!" she yelled, moving out of the way for Fortenbrasse to pivot and slam his hammer down upon the unsuspecting Balverine's head, crushing it under the blow so that it lay a lifeless heap on the ground at Gale's feet. A rumbled through the ground underneath their feet caught the young girl's attention, her dark eyes surveying the wet soil for something to appear. But her gaze was pulled upwards to the circling orbs of light hovering above them, flowing wisps trailing behind them in stark contrast to the increased darkness of the night before diving deftly and blindly into the ground. Gale fell to her bottom once more at the violent convulsions, growls escaping reanimated corpses that now pulled themselves from the soft ground, yanking up into life even as some of their limbs fell from their bodies through the process. "Hollowmen…" Gale whispered under her breath, too frightened to speak up from the sight of two fiendish corpses standing over her, a group of three to Fortenbrasse's front not far from her.

Fortenbrasse took to handling the Hollowmen ahead of him, leaving Gale with no weapon to fend off the oncoming attackers other than herself; something she surely didn't look forward to. They dragged their swords in their hands loosely behind them, trails following in the dirt with their lumbering movements in her direction, blue and green coloured glows hovering within the cavities of their empty chests beneath their tattered rags and the sockets of their missing eyes. Gale stumbled back on her hands and managed to stand with a bit of difficulty, breathing heavy from the fear coursing through her veins. With one deft punch, Gale knocked the head clean from the closest one's shoulders and took a step back with a cocky grin. She wiped it from her face, though, when she came to the realization that the corpse had not stopped in its pursuit.

"Destroy the chest!" Fortenbrasse howled out to her, having moved away so that she would not be struck by the length of his swinging hammer. "They'll shatter into dust!" He handled easily one Hollowman and was taking care of the two remaining ahead of him with not a problem, not tearing his eyes away for a second to check back on her. Dodging a swinging sword coming down at her Gale quickly slung her heavy satchel at the headless one's torso, knocking through the brittle bones and tattered rags as if they were paper. It crumbled to the ground in a heap of gray dust, the other not hesitating to gain on her with the space between them now open.

This one was far larger than its counterpart and wore a thick plate of armour over its chest, raising its short but deadly axe high above its head preparing to strike. Gale gasped and covered her head with her arms in desperation, knowing she had not the time to roll out of the way of the swing to save herself or to block the sharp edge of the weapon.

But Fortenbrasse stood proudly not a moment too soon between them, blocking the swing of the axe with the thick handle of his hammer and pushing the reeling Hollowman away before striking it down with a yell of ferocity that Gale had ever yet to hear escape him. Breathing labored and heavy with short gasps from his taxing ordeal he turned to her, his eyes continuing their scan for anymore movement around them before speaking to her.

"Tha' be it… for now." He managed through pained breaths, struggling for air and tired out already, "Let's be goin 'afore a bloody Banshee shows up an' joins in the fun." With his own suggestion he turned rapid fire and began to sprint away with his hammer thrown over his shoulder once more, going in a serpentine pattern through the continuing rumbles vibrating under the cold soil of the earth to avoid any sudden attack from below. Gale took a second to register what he said before following in suit behind him, mimicking the same style of running he practiced moments before to assure that she would make it through unscathed.

Hours later and truly exhausted they came to halt in a thicket of dead trees, hidden away from the prying eyes of any would-be attackers that hoped to catch them at their weakest. The sun sat lazily on the horizon, its heat never reaching them in the dark recesses of the dreaded marsh. Gale fell to her knees helplessly to catch her breath and wiped away the sweat on her forehead hidden beneath her short bangs. The hilly land before them hid whatever lay in the far-out distance, the thick fog covering the trees and deep marshes that continued for countless miles and crags that no doubt kept in secret many a creature that would love to see the two join them in their eternal torment. With their adversaries long behind them Fortenbrasse came to a pause, pulling the waterskin hanging on his side from his belt loop and bringing it to his lips in a chug, passing it to Gale when he was finished.

"We be not far from Brightwood, by me guess." He groaned as he sat down on the cold ground alongside her, relieving his hammer from his sore shoulder and placing it beside him. "Need to be headin' over them hills… take us the rest o' the day if we be lucky. We can be out of 'ere an' into Brightwood by nightfall." Gale nodded in silent agreement, not caring to rest with the thought that their true escape seemed so close. She sighed with a careful look down the path they had been taking far from the stretch of road running through Wraithmarsh, her thoughts traveling back to the events of the day since passed.

No doubt, Reaver was fully aware of the situation at hand.


	3. A Whole New Life

I do not own any of the Fable rights, although, I will say that it would be rather nice to do so. I want to thank **Aeroblade **and **Crystal-Shadow303** for reviewing. I thank you so very much for taking your time to review my story; I really do appreciate it.

I do have to say that Gale, Kivek, Fortenbrasse, and anyone else that I happen to make up belong to me. You can see pics of them on my deviantart under the name of **ESUERC. **Give me a look, if you don't mind.

**FABLE II **

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 3: A WHOLE NEW LIFE**

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With much surprise, the ambitious duo made their way proudly through the thick forests of Brightwood, the sheer beauty around them taking their exhausted minds away from the numbness and pain coursing through their legs. Fortenbrasse, knowing the Assassination Society was located within the vast forest, in the darkest and most vile recesses, of course, thought for a moment during one of their short lived rests that perhaps Gale could head on alone out to Bowerstone. He changed his mind quickly, though, when the situation changed to a far darker one.

During their journey through the forest, from the point that they entered all the way to the end when they finally arrived to the safe security of Bowerlake, they had been attacked by bandits a number of times. But always they managed to come out on top and win the scuffles they faced with nothing but a few nicks and scratches that Fortenbrasse took on; nothing Gale couldn't patch up with a few bandages here and there. She was happy to have picked up a decent sum of gold, as well, and happily listened to the soft jingle of them from inside her purse.

Having thought it far too dangerous for her to go on alone, Fortenbrasse went along as her continued protection from the countless dangers along the wild roads. From there on out, Gale would peer out into the woods encompassing the dirt path on which they traveled with a wary glance, seeing out of the corner of her eye the Bandits that caught on that they would not be able to best the hammer wielding guard at any rate.

Finally, the shimmering waters of Bowerlake presented themselves, the faint sounds of jovial gypsy music heard far out into the distance, away from their line of sight upon the hill cresting the entirety of the area. Their small party came to an abrupt stop when Fortenbrasse placed a large hand upon Gale's shoulder as she began to trudge courageously past him without so much as a thought as to why he's stopped. Turning around to face him with her brow raised in thought Fortenbrasse stared stoically onto the path leading farther down the road over her shoulder, up the hill where a handful of guards were discussing with traders the most direct route, as well as the safest, to Bowerstone.

Not over a day's walk from their current position, he saw that it was high time to announce that this would be the last time for a long while that they were to see each other.

"I done guess this be it, then." Fortenbrasse started at the moment he saw Gale was going to question him. He released his hold of her shoulder but unconsciously wrapped his gloved hand about the thick, leather-bound handle of his hammer, his scanning eyes that were once rapidly tracing the forms of the guards falling onto her small, frail form. He wondered for a split second whether he should accompany her completely to the trading town to ensure her safety but she broke him from his thoughts upon sensing his rising trepidation with the cool demeanor of her voice.

"Don't worry." Gale assured, "I'll travel with the merchants the rest of the way." She raised her smirking gaze up to him, crossing her arms over her chest and pivoting her leg almost defiantly. He brought his narrowing eyes back to the guards, who were now pretending not to have noticed them down a ways in the center of the road. They swayed to and fro at their posts with their clutches near to their holsters for impending trouble, almost as if they were daring Fortenbrasse to strike out against them to get a decent bit of action in their otherwise boring, daily routine. But he quickly ignored them and shook any thoughts from his head that had nothing to do with the young girl at the moment.

All the while Gale smirked deviously up at him, her cheeks widening with obvious glee that both of their journeys were nearly to their ends. "Thank you for coming all the way out here with me." She added and nervously scratched the back of her head for she had a lack of better words. "I suppose this is really it, huh?" she finished at length.

Fortenbrasse stumbled, taken aback by the sudden embrace forced upon him by the young Gale, but relished in the fact that the already nervous guards were now highly alert, even going as far to step from their posts to survey the scene below. He smirked a moment later and graciously put an arm around her thin shoulders to return the favour, although, never once did he tear the fierce intensity of his eyes away from the guards. Less than eagerly, he pulled away, sensing that it was enough, and held Gale at arm's length from him.

Tactfully, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear "Give 'em 'ell" and received a quick but playful punch to the arm not a moment later. Giggling all the while, Gale tore away from him and set her bearings straight, handing him the now greatly lessened bag of supplies that she had placed within a satchel she'd take off a fallen Bandit, keeping her original one to herself. She sighed at the lifted weight from her drooped shoulders, glad to only be carrying the clothes she managed to collect when they'd originally left Bloodstone.

"Maybe we'll see each other some other time." Gale hoped, voicing her thoughts before she had a chance to hold them back. Fortenbrasse only smirked at her coy attitude, shaking his head before turning his back to her and staring down the path from whence they came.

"I ain't be makin' any promises." He stated bluntly with a wave into the air, dismissing her behind him without a second glance. Fortenbrasse wouldn't need one, he concluded, knowing down the road somewhere they would meet again, whether the terms be for good or ill.

-0-0-

Bowerstone was nothing Gale had ever seen before. The marvelous town held her eyes in its brilliant grandeur, its sophistication, its… typical street beggar… atop the glorious bridge spanning the divide just past the opened gates across the gently flowing waters beneath. Just as she told Fortenbrasse she would do, Gale took the long trek all the way from Bowerlake with the same group of merchants her and the guard saw before they parted each others' company. She now conjured up the courage to go about on her own and experience the new sights and sounds around her.

Nearly as quick as she began, her eyes cast upward to the beautiful, glowing morning sky just before the oncoming dawn, she was swept off her feet in a flash that apparently knocked whatever had hit her to the ground as well. Gale pushed away her headband, as it had fallen in her eyes, back into place behind her ears and moved her short bangs away from her face, flushing pale when she realized that she had run into someone. They had been equally embarrassed as she, picking up their feathered hat in a flurry of nervous pats on the ground behind them, their dark eyes never leaving her even as she stood and brushed the dust from the seat of her pants.

"Terribly sorry about that." Gale apoligised, extending her hand to the man still sitting on the ground at her feet dumfounded, and wearing a confused look about his tanned, bearded face. "You alright?" She raised an eyebrow after what seemed like an eternity passed between them with him still on the ground, wondering whether or not she should inquire if he needed some actual help to get back up.

"Just fine!" he stammered with the sound of his fragile ego shattered evident on his nearly quivering voice. "I need more… um… to pay attention!" The man struggled on his words and allowed Gale to help hoist him to his feet. It was now painfully obvious to the young girl that he was a bard, or at the very least, an aspiring one. But all the same it was better to try something and find you're no good at it than giving up hope all together.

Gale placed her gloved hands into the deep pockets lining the outside of her gray, dingy overcoat and looked down to the mud covered boots upon her sore feet, realising at that moment how horrid her appearance must have been. The Bard paid no heed to her growing lack of comfort in her appearance, though it may have been unvoiced, and continued. "I get lost composing my ditties; constantly looking for muses that could help my artistic… hm…" His shoulders sank in defeat at the lack of finding the right words, his eyes cats down forlornly to the ground, "So far business hasn't been too great."

Gale pitied him, understanding all too well the feeling of failure; Reaver's constant berating of her shortcomings a prime example. "I suppose all you can do is keep trying and hope you find someone." She advised taking a step to go around him. The Bard only smiled gaily, prancing in front of her with his hands entwined behind his back, stopping her every step. "I really should be… going." She struggled to say with every attempt to go around him, her annoyance growing with the fact that he was oblivious to his stubborn ways.

"I should follow you!" the Bard declared loudly, gaining some unwanted attention from passerby scampering off elsewhere and the many people setting up their shops for the day. Gale went to protest, afraid she would explode on the helpless man any minute, but resigned defeat and shut her eye when she felt the pull of her arm, held snuggly in the Bard's hand, and was dragged along across the bridge."

"The adventurer crossed the bridge to Bowerstone, and went," he began, clearing his throat beforehand, trying his best to keep an awkward rhythm and beat to his words, "An' to this poor ol' Bard the girl was heaven sent." Gale rolled her eyes to the distasteful lyrics, disgusted and amused all at the same time by the song he'd written off the top of his head in a manner of seconds. Wonderful, she thought, not only was she now in Bowerstone, but the very first person she happens to come across is nearly as, if not more so, insane as some of the residents of Bloodstone.

Still pulled along but keeping up with her leader's pace Gale's eyes traveled over his shoulder to the large stone column in the center of the square, the gold of its whirring gears and springs visible even from where she was, catching her attention like a moth to a flame. "As good a place as any to start." The Bard announced, releasing her strained wrist. Unconsciously, she backed away from him a step of two to keep him from trying the same tactic again, rubbing at her sore arm through her thick glove.

Standing jovially atop the stone steps at the base of the clock tower, shrouded slightly in a small shadow, the Bard told her of many things surrounding them. One of the pieces of information Gale found to be quite useful was the tavern just off to her side, The Cow and Corset, the Bard called it. It was there that surely she could finally find rest and take leave, even for a moment, from her plans. The fare was cheap, nearly free, said he, going on about the other small vendible stands scattered about the perimeter of the clock tower; the weapon's shop another point of interest she would try to have a look in to.

Gale shuffled through her satchel lazily; leaving her extra clothes atop the small bed in the room she'd rented out from the owner of the Inn, and trotted to the open door, shutting it quietly behind her before descending the stairs down to the pub. The air shifted about her when she reached the landing, thick with smoke and laughter even at such an early time in the morning. Her "companion" for the time being stood out in his flamboyant clothes in the corner of the pub, waving his hands wildly to his sides as he told of the tale of an ancient hero battling and slaying a wicked dragon far to the North in centuries past. Once again, Gale expected nothing less, hoping to make it to the door before he noticed her leaving so that she may be on her way to look for work alone.

There wasn't much someone of her young age was allowed to do. Surely, she wouldn't mind so much working as a barmaid, serving drinks to all the drunkards and yokels, but apparently she had yet to come of age for such a job. Being a little less than seventeen definitely had its disadvantages.

Gale huffed and sucked in her chest, sidling to the doorway in the shroud of smoke, nearly to the bright light shining through into the smoky pub. She gasped, though, coughing with a sharp intake of toxic air, when a hand clasped down on her shoulder. "Leavin' to go on a job hunt?" The Bard inquired, following her out into the open air and taking in a deep breath, releasing it with a relaxed sigh of comfort. His disgruntled "follower" held different thoughts. The sooner Gale found a place to work the sooner she could rid herself of the loon of a Bard and be on her merry way.

"You know, Bowerstone gets many of its goods through the ports here; the cargo arrives down on the docks." The Bard mused, pointing with his whole hand down along the bridge to the hidden docks beneath, "We get things from all along the coast. All the way from Oakfield down to Bloodstone."

Gale stiffened in a second, the thought of Bloodstone fresh on her mind. The Bard raised a brow to the young girl's sudden fearful expression, unease dancing in her downcast eyes. What if Reaver employed someone to look for her and Fortenbrasse in one of the Port Towns; would he be that desperate? Gale shook the thoughts, knowing she was overreacting about something that was obviously too insignificant to be concerned with. "But if that doesn't suit your fancy," The Bard started again, trying his hardest to push the aura of discomfort away that had settled between the two.

The Bard stroked his beard, crossing his arms over his small chest and looking to the sky to search for the words that he failed to form. "Castle Fairfax and this here square have plenty of opportunities you'd like, no doubt." He exclaimed, attempting to rekindle the lost enthusiasm in Gale's dimming eyes. "Or you can always become a Bard. Easy work, that is." She looked up, half interested in what he had to say less than the annoying fidgets of his hands, "Although… I've yet to find decent material."

Gale was soon led a little less than two miles through the upper class area of Bowerstone, the very road leading to the ominous haze in the distance shrouding a fortress-like castle that rose above the horizon; visible from any point in town. During the entirety of that trek, being led by the boisterous Bard- now turned to berating himself for being the aptly named "Least talented individual in all Albion"- the sights and sounds of the crowded streets amazed Gale. The buildings, the homes of the wealthy individuals, towered over one another and hung out into the street above her, her vision of the crystalline sky blocked out by the hanging laundry spanning from window to window across the tight gap.

Taking heed to ignore the self mourning of the Bard barely a foot in front of her Gale made the best of things, hoping that at the end of this long road there would be a gracious opportunity awaiting her. Of course, the hour long walk did not deter her from her increasing ire of the ceaselessly talking man in front of her at every step, wanting nothing more than to pummel her own head into the ground rather than his to bring about an end to her own misery.

Annoyed beyond any point of being dissuaded, the shuffling sounds of Gale's dragging feet across the cobblestone path beneath her were unheard by the snoozing guard to her right, his large frame leaning heavily against the colossal stone archway reaching high above them into the emerald coloured trees. The cool shade provided the guard the perfect chance to rest as well as Gale, who had no problem, with making her way past him an into the large courtyard that lay beyond; the Bard and small girl invisible from the guard's bowed head and tilted hat sitting like a cowl over his eyes.

Gale cringed, wanting to turn in protest for the Bard to leave her to her own devices

I'd rather listen to Reaver boast for an eternity and a day than deal with this… she thought sourly to herself within the safe confides of her mind.

Seemingly taking a hint from the hateful, almost palpable aura of the girl stopped shy behind him the Bard scurried away to a seated merchant not far from the main gate, joyously asking of tales he may have possibly heard floating around Bowerstone or the vast lands beyond its walls to mask the fact that he'd grown frightened of what Gale could possibly do to him. Gale enjoyed the new, peaceful silence and harmonious singing of the small birds popping around on the ground in search of their morning meal, finally taking in completely the wondrous architecture of the visible, grand castle before her. If the outside, so luxurious in its exquisite appeal remained the same, if not better, on the inside all the way from the framing to the large dining hall she would surely be amazed; this feat of beauty, engineering, and design like nothing she's seen before.

Her boots clicked quietly on the stone steps of the tiered stairway leading to the small alcove above, housing the ornate, hand carved double doors leading down the main hall of the castle. Gale gazed up for just one moment to admire the overhang above her stretching out slightly into the courtyard and shrouding her half in shadow from the partially risen sun.

With trepidation hindering her judgment and less her movements Gale grabbed the golden loop hanging in the center of one of the doors and gently knocked against the similar gold plate bolted behind it, the sound of its thumping barely audible through the thick wood of the carved mahogany door. Realising that, perhaps, she should try harder she strengthened her grasp on the ring and applied more force to her knocks in hope that someone would hear her call despite the vastness of the castle. Where was the chamberlain when she needed one?

After several agonising moments and thoughts that she would receive no answer the doors swung wide inside, the young girl nearly falling onto her face from not having relinquished her hold on the ring; the plush carpet greeting her below. Truly embarrassed but hiding the blush upon her normally pale cheeks well Gale hid her hand behind her back and swayed on her heels to correct herself, the old gentleman now standing in the doorway looking her up and down incredulously.

The man tipped the glasses upon his hooked nose down in suspicion of the girl before him and peered through the concentrated part of the glass, baffled at what she could possibly want. "Yes, Madame?" he drawled out, the sound of his overly emphasised vowels nearly as annoying to Gale as the screech of nails digging deep into the surface of a blackboard. He looked crossly at her and placed a hand within one the pockets of his velvet overcoat, fiddling with something unseen inside. "Lord Lucien is taking no visitors at the moment." The chamberlain admitted, his back going straight and his arms tightening reflexively at his sides.

"Actually…" Gale began sheepishly, nervous with the venomous glare that lay upon her lowered shoulders, "I was wondering if the castle had any job positions open for hire at the time being." She could hear a scoff pass the chamberlain's lips, his dark eyes looking over his amusingly large beak to estimate her worth on the spot as though she were nothing more than a pauper up for sale.

He bowed slightly before her, his arm stretched out behind him and the other sitting at his waist casually, "Terribly sorry, miss, but we've no—" Even before he was cut off a heavy set of footsteps was heard heading down the hallway in their direction, a man who looked no older than twenty appearing from behind a doorframe approaching quickly. He slapped a hand harshly down on the shoulder of the chamberlain, playing the action off with a wry grin that dismissed any unease Gale had acquired at the sight of him. The man sent his hand down, slapping the chamberlain on the back and pushing him so he tumbled forward slightly before he caught himself, the glasses upon his nose clinking against his chest as the chain that held them went taut in protest.

The man, standing above the chamberlain by nearly a whole foot, a pipe that had been hand carved it seemed sticking lazily from the corner of his mouth and a dark goatee a tad unruly upon his chin, a scar running deep down the side of his face, chortled heartily, raspy with what could have been years of smoking. "Come on, then, Jeeves." He started, taking a step back as a hand swatted away at him as though he were a pest, "You know we got work 'ere to offer the girl." The chamberlain stiffened uncomfortably, snorting as he fixed his messed regal overcoat and placed his glasses back on his face before snorting once more with finality. "Work in the kitchen with me, she can."

The man, jovial and playful, gave Jeeves yet another punch to the shoulder upon passing him to stand before the small framed Gale, nothing their size difference with a dubious smirk that handsomely creased across his face.

"Well, howdy, there." He greeted warmly and took Gale by the hand, shaking it so strongly that it set her off balance and made her stumble towards him. A puff of smoke rose from him after escaping his slightly parted lips, rising into the air and disappearing before he even began to speak again. "Go one back, now, J." He shooed away at the chamberlain with a dismissive wave of his hand behind him, not caring to even look back to acknowledge the hateful glare thrown at him like freshly sharpened daggers.

"It is Jeeves, insolent cur!" The chamberlain protested in return, huffing indignantly as he swung his coat out behind him and turned away, shutting the doors behind him with more than a tinge of anger.

The two stood there alone for a moment, sizing up each other with questioning eyes that begged to guess what the other was thinking.

"Too easy to ruffle his feathers, that one." He laughed as he broke the uncomfortable silence that settled between them, taking a spot against the stone wall and puffing on his pipe almost hungrily. They stood there for a few more minutes, discussing here and there a few things regarding the chamberlain and his lack of respect for the girl seeking employment.

Gale was led back down the stairs and into the brightening courtyard to where she was sure she would be greeted by the lonesome Bard again, but was thankful to find that he was nowhere in sight. "Name's Kivek, by the way." He said at length as they stopped underneath the cool shade of a massive tree off to the side of the courtyard towards the guarding wall, making her look up to him. A few small sparrows perched on the black, metal fence just near them that served as a block from visitors entering the restricted area of one of the many mausoleums, and watched them curiously with occasional tweets shared between them.

Gale stood straight instinctively, not wishing to give off a bad first impression with poor manners that were more accustomed to being seen by the beggars roaming the streets, particularly of Bloodstone, looking for a handout. "Um… my name's Gale. Gale Glenmeadows… or G.G.; whichever you prefer." This made Kivek grin widely and he chuckled under his breath, popping a squat on the tall grass collected at the base of the wide tree shading them.

"Gale'll do." He retorted, exhaling deeply a cloud of smoke that stung Gale's eyes painfully and caused them to water immediately. She shook it away, though, and took a seat next to him as he patted the grass at his side with his free hand, greeting him with a grin that could have challenged his own.

They shared a comforting laugh together once they were seated beside each other, and for once in a long while Gale felt something that brought a warmness to her heart.

A sense of belonging.

**-0-0-0-0-**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Chapter 4**

**-- **

**The Scholar**

_You guys should be able to figure out who will be in the next chapter by the name of it, I would hope._


	4. The Scholar

I wan to thank **Anonymous Echo** and **Gyrogia** for reviewing. Thank you so very much.

Anyway, I do not own anything dealing with Fable II, it belongs to Lionhead studios... But I do own Gale, Kivek, Fortenbrasse, and anyone else I happen to make up along the way, whether they be minor or major.

You can find me on **DEVIANTART** under the name of **ESUERC**, by the way. I have pictures of my characters and such up there.

**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 4: THE SCHOLAR**

**-0-0-0-0-**

"So, where ya from?" Kivek asked, his words mumbled like gibberish as they escaped the half parted lips holding his pipe in place. The duo traveled down the elegantly adorned hallway, the plush carpet beneath their feet like walking on the surface of clouds and the high pitched ceiling above them holding a sense of grandeur even in its simplicity. Gale stood a few paces behind him, gazing up with astonishment, highly impressed with the room before her, so much so that it caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Not even Reaver, as far as she was concerned, had such magnificent accommodations and taste, the regality of it all seemingly far too much for Gale to possible imagine the Pirate King handling.

Still, in all the show, she couldn't help but feel in the pit of her stomach a growing, tense feeling, clawing at her like a savage animal. The Castle… it somehow seemed… lonely. Something had to have been missing.

A clearing throat broke her from her silent thoughts, her stoic pose and pondering look up towards the heavens above catching Kivek's attention, not at all annoyed that she had yet to answer his question. Quickly regaining her composure she scampered up to join him, tearing her eyes away from her lavish surroundings and focusing entirely on him. Realising the question that he had asked she was quick to respond upon thinking on it, collecting herself only to watch him walk backwards ahead of her towards an opened door just to the their left in the Throne room.

"Out of Bloodstone." Gale answered in a curt manner, finding herself entertained by the bow-legged walk Kivek was performing as they entered the Grand Dining Hall. She would have much preferred to have looked at the throne room a little more closely, noticing out of the corner of her eye down the length of the hall that the throne sat empty upon the raised dais on the far wall, the pillars running from the floor up to the ceiling casting mysterious shadows upon the darkened walls that could have very well hidden a stranger or two.

A wild, blazing fire that licked at the air hungrily burned within the wide, stone hearth at the edge of the long room, the light cast from it shrouding the set dining ware into strange shadows that danced across the mahogany table, its colour dark and mesmirising as one could see clearly their reflection in its polished surface. "Bloodstone, eh?" Kivek inquired mainly to himself, turning and striding leisurely to the nearest doorway hiding the set of descending stairs behind it, leading down into the kitchen. "How'd you go an' do that? Take a ship? Not many people can make it through Wraithmarsh if that was you're route. What a place that outta been!" he snorted, reflexively wiping away at his nose with his falling sleeve that had once been curled up around his forearm. "Anyway… you'll be needin' a bath before you go an' meet Lord Lucien."

Gale instinctively pulled at the worn fabric of her dirtied, grey overcoat with a look of disdain across her pale features, smudging at some of the dried on mud with her glove. It only proved to make it worse, for the mud smeared under her finger, causing her to sigh. Kivek looked miserably at the stone floor of the kitchen as they entered down the creaking stairs and came upon the landing, taking in a long draw from his pipe. "Poor Codger, he is. Stays in his study most of the time, nowadays." She took a moment from prodding at her coat to stare up at him through her fallen bangs, begging him to go on with a look in her eye.

"Been that way ever since his wife and lil' one died." He finished and stood in the center of the kitchen with his arms hooked over one another, billowing smoke from the corner of his mouth more often than before.

Barely registering the somber attitude Kivek put on Gale was quick to notice the inviting warmth of the kitchen and the delicious smell of the large loaves of bread baking in the many leveled stove at her right, the very sight and smells of the quaint kitchen inviting her to take a closer look. The place, the castle, felt more like a home to her with each passing second, something new always coming along and presenting itself that only made it all the better.

Once the solemn look left his eyes, obviously from having remembered something from the past about the deaths of Lucien's family, Kivek was quick to straighten himself and walk over to the wall just beside the blackened stove, avoiding the large pipe protruding from and running down the rough brick surface of the wall. A simple cabinet stood to his left and with a slight pull from his free hand he managed it away, swinging it like a door on its hinges to reveal a smaller room a bit less spacious than the kitchen- their quarters, Gale deduced.

"You can wash up in there." Kivek pointed out, quite literally with the swing of his pipe in the direction of the room, "Beds be in there, too, if you need to rest up a bit." He smirked, "Mind the mice, though." He jested, making a quiet squeaking sound within his throat. Gale threw him a quick glance of concern, uncertain of bunking with mice, but Kivek only laughed and played it off like the joke that it was.

Later on, the sun already having passed its halfway point in the brilliance of the pure, blue, cloudless sky, Gale looked upon herself in a small, full length mirror within the servants' quarters. Her belongings had been collected by Kivek while she washed up from the Cow and Corset, and she graciously thanked him for the kind gesture. She would rather it be a while before she saw the Bard again and finished the mental breakdown on the poor, somewhat unnerving man that she began not long ago.

But now, she simply scowled at the reflection in the mirror, the image of a wiry girl glaring back at her with the same intensity she sent it. Surely, it was obvious, or at least she hoped it was, that she was a girl but her feminine "features" seemed to be lacking in what she noted to be the most important areas. Gale puffed out her chest vainly but released the air in her lungs a moment later when she was faced with the failure of not helping the situation.

There was a stifled laugh from behind her, Kivek leaning against the doorframe and looking her up and down to gauge the new servant's outfit she had been presented. It amused him to no end, the puffed cheeks and the pursed lips of the young girl that voiced her hatred and malice for the new set of clothes, aimed at him in obvious displeasure. But surprisingly, she released the pent up aggression in a deep sigh that brought her walking over to him.

"What say you in meetin' Lord Lucien?" he asked, stuffing his pipe for a new smoke.

Gale took a second and tugged at the apron hanging on her hips with distaste, attempting to get used to the strange feeling of having it around her. Not even at Reaver's Manor, which was a reoccurring subject in her head for the past few hours, had she been made to wear the uniform of a scullery maid; the Pirate King not caring for the looks of those he knew he simply would not be more… personal… with. "Sounds good to me." She replied, coming out of her contemplation without a bit of hesitance.

It was right of her to worry about the prospect of Reaver, of course. What else would she have to worry about other than the unorthodox reasons Reaver felt in necessary to keep grudges, this one not even worth his while? Soon, that became the point of her thoughts. Gale could not figure out, even to save her life, whether Reaver would bother to pursue her and exact punishment or would simply get over it, which was much more his character, and hire an older, much more beautiful maid that he could actually toy around with. She knew better to rely on her instincts when it involved Reaver, thinking it better not to bother at all and just let things fall into place like they're supposed to.

Kivek handed her a large platter that took up the entirety of her arms before they made their way up the stairs and into the dining room, the cool silver of the tray burrowing into her skin that caused her to shiver involuntarily. He led her across the lighted throne room, the chandeliers swaying gently above her and rocking the small flicker of flames resting high upon the candles from the draft coming down the entrance hallway, a cooling wind that did nothing to relax the tense girl.

What Kivek had said concerning Lord Lucien turned out to be true, Gale came to find out. Lucien, at the moment, was in his study in the tallest tower of the castle, a small spire jutting out from the main body as if it was built in accord with the Lord's own sense of solitude, towering high above the lowly houses of the peasants of Bowerstone.

To Gale, the walk was tedious as she followed slowly in tow behind her friend, circling about a smaller tower lined with a staircase decorated in small torches burning brightly, spiraling upward to an outcropping above, all the while trying to balance the tray laden with an assortment of foods that would cause a horrendous mess if dropped. They soon breached the top landing and collected themselves before the ever scrutinizing glare of Jeeves, who stood off to the side of the large double doors as if awaiting their arrival.

He sent the two a disgusted glance out of the corner of his eye and popped his nose into the air sourly, folding his lips down into a most unpleasant scowl. "Do not tarry." Jeeves ordered, prying himself from the wall he stood against and walking stiff backed to the doors. "This is the third time this week you have been late with the Lord's lunch. I do suggest you hurry lest I fire you myself." He threatened Kivek, grinning wickedly when he saw that he managed to shake up Gale with the thought of losing her job on her first day. But Kivek knew better and ushered her through the newly opened doors into the dimmed hallway beyond.

Gale stopped in her tracks at the sound of the doors slamming shut with finality behind them, the vibrations and sound echoing down the long stretch of the hall, the end of it not even in sight from the rising stairs into the torch lit distance ahead. The china atop the tray clinked about causing Kivek to look down to inspect the source, coming to find that it had been newly introduced trembles of nervousness running up Gale's arms. She twisted around in a hurry on her heel in an attempt to go back through the door behind them but a firm grasp upon her trembling shoulder held her at bay. The shaking of the china ended abruptly when Gale caught the look that Kivek held in his dark eyes, comforting in their seriousness as his dark gaze swallowed her.

"Relax." He said sternly at length whilst patting her shoulder gingerly in reassurance, "Lucien won't bite. It's fine to be nervous." Kivek began to turn Gale about and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leading her down the lengthy hallway leisurely despite the comment from Jeeves previously. The flames flickered against the walls within their bases, the walls behind them blackened from years of constant burning in the cool wind that blew in from the opened air balcony just to their left as they continued. From the edge of the balcony a grand view of Bowerstone could be seen, the soaring birds even envious of the splendid height from which the town could be seen.

The ornate door before them stood as the first gauntlet to Gale, the time to meet Lord Lucien having come. She watched the golden shimmer of the large, crafted bolts on the door as it loudly creaked upon opening, Kivek moving to the side to allow her admittance before shutting it quietly afterwards.

The study was certainly a unique room in its own right. All about, encompassing them in ancient texts and statues, knick-knacks and scrolls, laid not a single empty space. In the enormity of the room one could not find a section of wall uncovered by a map or bookcase, the floor covered with scattered sheets of notes and books that had been haphazardly thrown about or just left open. Gale took it all in with an amazed gasp that issued past her lips involuntarily, forgetting the seemingly increased weight of the tray upon her arms as her curiosity mesmerized her.

Kivek soon separated himself from her with a nonchalant shake of his head and traveled off in his lonesome to the right side of the room towards towering rows of bookcases lining the walls. Here, he found, situated upon a perch on the aged ladder ascending the bookcase, a man. No, a scholar; the more appropriate title. He wore a dark coat dyed a deep blue with thin borders of gold along the edges, his apparel littered with small scrolls attached to the fine belt strapped across his chest and a dagger that hung loosely at his side on his hip. An eyepiece, hovering over his left eye, glinted against the light filtering in through the large windows on the far wall, his skin dark like the natives of a distant land Gale was familiar with.

Their eyes looked up from the dirtied, ancient scroll held loosely in their hands and gazed upon the arrival of Kivek, a small, welcoming smile stretching across their visage to greet the man. Gale noted this but knew her duties at that second and moved with haste to the wall opposite Kivek and the man with which he was conversing. Here, she spotted another man in the room that she hadn't noticed before, elegantly dressed in all the finest fashions that showed off his obvious rank in society, his head bowed and shoulders hunched with his keen, calculative gaze that looked as though it could read her as well set upon an opened text on the table he leaned heavily against.

She silently walked up to him and waited as he moved some of the papers he'd been looking at out of the way, placing the tray upon the table to his side with the mindset not to make the china clink around more than it already had. Not once did he tear his fearsome, dark eyes away from the book beneath him, the hunger within them insatiable to knowledge that Gale was not familiar with. The short whiskers running down his attractive high cheek bones twitched as he noticed Gale standing beside him, telling her without words that he wished for her to let him be, the soft tapping of his knee-high boots clicking under the table.

Not daring to speak up and argue about his sudden rudeness in acknowledging her existence in such a way Gale sauntered away much like he wanted, leaving without a word and a huff under her breath. So much for first impressions, she thought, annoyed with the fact that the man must have been_ the _Lord Lucien that Kivek spoke so solemnly about. But she understood well enough that he was rather engrossed in his studies and could not and would not take his eyes away from the faded words his mind read over and over in complete silence.

Gale found herself walking to Kivek's side across the room, the raised dais to her left in the small alcove catching her attention when she passed. The large, eloquent, dark, demented creature crafted into the multicoloured glass hovered above her like a morbid gargoyle; its twisted, wiry arms stretched high to the heavens above the dais. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine from the look of the creature peering down upon her from the secrecy of its veiling cowl. She couldn't help but notice the beauty of it, though; something spawned from the darkness of the ancient kingdom, and had to admire Lord Lucien's choice in having it there.

Gale waited at Kivek's side patiently after having arrived near him, her arms crisscrossed over her chest as she listened to the men's conversation with little more than bored interest. Of course, Kivek, being the silly, playful man he'd come to be known as in the castle, leaned heavily against the young girl at his side, laying his arm upon her head to prove the difference in their heights. He earned nothing but a lowly growl from Gale and simply continued on with his conversation without ever missing a beat in his words. "Kivek!" Gale piped up and futilely tried to pry his arm from her head, the man ignoring her and continuing as he knew it would chip at her patience.

Finally, he looked down to her and smirked lopsidedly with his pipe hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth, still not relinquishing the added pressure of his arm atop Gale's head. "An' this here Ragamuffin is… uh…" Kivek knew better than to forget Gale's name, but he did so love crawling his way under her skin and messing with her for his own cruel amusement, even if he had only known her for just under a day. He feigned stupidity, his mind going blank of suggestions for Gale's name and took a long, peaceful draw from his pipe. "Galileo, was it?"

"Gale." She replied curtly not a second later, giving up on trying to force his arm away from her head. "Idiot…" Gale slouched to relieve some of the strain cracking her neck in so many places, mumbling under her breath curses aimed at the manservant.

As a response, and as immature as it was for someone of his age to do, Kivek continued on with his jesting by drooping his large hand before Gale's eyes, moving his arm over ever so slightly across the top of her head so it caused her black headband to fall down to her nose. He found himself tumbling forward unexpectedly, eyes widening when he realized that Gale had ducked out from underneath him, thus eliminating his casual support.

He careened, landing face first into the bookshelf to the left of the ladder the other man was sitting on and knocking an assortment of coded, many volume books in a rain of dust on him; his pipe skidding across the floor to Gale's lifted foot. It stopped as she stamped down on it with the toe of her boot, crossing her arms over her chest again and grinning with the sense that she'd managed to accomplish something great by duping the otherwise not-so-bright manservant.

A loud, sickening snap was heard from the quick twist of Gale's neck as she cracked it, removing any and all discomfort that had been created. She gazed up in curiosity to the stoic scholar sitting on the fourth rung of the ladder without so much as a sideways glance to see how Kivek was faring. From beneath the mound of books they heard a stifled groan that made her giggle quietly to herself, reveling in the fact that he had yet to recover from her sly maneuver.

Lord Lucien sneered and shook his head at the loud commotion behind him, choosing to ignore it and return to his studies. He hadn't gotten much of a look at the newest addition to the workforce of Fairfax castle and decided against his best interest to sneak a glance over his shoulder. The newest maid, he figured, stood before his scholarly companion with her back to him, her short, ginger hair stopping just at the nape of her neck and her uniform two sizes too big. Damn it all that the time he decides to look he can see nothing but the scene of his most trusted manservant covered in a mound of books, bringing a hand to his forehead when the dull, numbing pain of an upcoming headache began to grow.

"Anyway, I'm Gale." She reiterated with the polite extension of her small, pale hand to the man, fixing up her hair with her free one. The man couldn't help but smirk at the playful expression plastered across Gale's face whilst she watched Kivek slowly but surely pull himself from the avalanche of books that stormed down on his thick cranium. He returned her gesture with a firm grip around her hand, placing his scroll in his lap for a brief break from study.

"Garth." He said, feeling the young girl gingerly shake his hand as if to avoid seeming too off putting. But as Kivek rose wobbly to his feet, holding a hand to his head as he teetered unbalanced upon stepping out from the mound of books, he swatted Gale on the back with his free hand; the strength of five men behind that one unforgiving slap that snapped painfully through the study. All it made her do was tense up with a hiss through her teeth, her back and body going stiff as the still unreleased hold on Garth's hand tightened reflexively. Pulling away, Gale returned the hit with equal, if not increased, ferocity, nailing Kivek square in the shoulder hard enough for him to reel backwards on his heels and turn to the side.

Garth shook his hand to alleviate the sting left behind by the young girl's mighty grasp, not realising up until then just how strong her grip had become because of the hit from Kivek.

Lord Lucien, not appearing far more than just simply annoyed, spun heel on them and grasped hard at the fine fabric of his vest as if to avoid lashing out. "Enough!" he demanded thoroughly, obviously at his last grasp on his short fuse of patience, Gale and Kivek the very flame that had sparked it. Garth settled comfortably back against the bookshelf and watched the young girl, Gale he had come to find out, being strung up into the arms of her counterpart, a hand covering her mouth as she was near to replying to Lord Lucien. A firecracker, he thought silently, grinning inwardly to himself to avoid showing his amusement. He vaguely made out Kivek whispering "Hard head" into Gale's ear, the one visible eye not hidden by his strange eyepiece scanning the duo incredulously as they whilst they turned to face their employer.

"Sorry 'bout her, Lord Lucien." Kivek apoligised sincerely and held easily Gale under his tight hold, feeling her never-ending struggle to break free from his inhuman grasp. "Neophyte, you see, an' don't know the workin's of the castle yet." Lord Lucien seemed to accept the explanation, all the while scowling at the squirming Gale with a hint of displeasure. It was something that she certainly did not miss when she suddenly looked in his direction, ceasing her struggle when she understood that this truly was to be the very man to whom she would address as her new employer.

Suddenly, Gale was very ashamed. She quickly averted her gaze elsewhere to avoid the calculating, icy eyes that bore into her from across the room. It did not matter, for Lucien brought his attention to an echoing knock coming from the chamber door, Jeeves rolling in a moment later under the admittance of his Lord. The Chamberlain hastily sulked to where Lucien stood and bent slightly towards him, holding a clandestine conversation through whispers passed along nearly in silence. Gale took into account the blotches of what looked to be ashes floating on Jeeves' overcoat and questioned where exactly they had come from, the smell of smoke lingering in from down the hallway and into the room.

Lucien nodded squarely and sent the chamberlain away politely with the wave of his hand, whisking it through his thrown back hair as he turned to face the others that so curiously and patiently watched him. "Kivek." He began, bringing both his hands to hold them behind his back, "You and your," he looked Gale straight in the eye for a split second before returning to the man that still held her, "…subordinate must be leaving. There is something that requires your urgent attention back in the kitchen."

A heavy sigh heaved against the back of Gale's head when it left Kivek's chest, a low rumbling resounding in her ear from the continual rasp in his throat when he spoke. "Yes, sir, Lord Lucien." Kivek replied politely and dragged Gale away under his arm back towards the door. She had no choice but to go along, forcing herself to comply without insult to her previous actions and wave her goodbyes to Garth behind her, the scholar fading into the background amongst the many books still scattered on the floor below him.

As they closed the door shut neither of the other two in attendance noticed the dismal visage upon Lucien's handsome face, his eyes narrowed dangerously at the small girl that had "graced" him with her presence.

**-00-0-0-0-0-00-**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**CHAPTER 5- OLD TOWN**


	5. Old Town

I do not own anything Fable related with the exception of my characters, Gale, Fortenbrasse, Kivek, and whoever else I happen to make up.

If you want to find me elsewhere I am on Deviantart under the name of ESUERC.

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I'm going to Otakon... sad thing is, I hate anime and manga. I'm getting dragged along.

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**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 5: OLD TOWN**

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Gale stood alone once again out in the surprisingly empty gardens that graced the front of Castle Fairfax, clouds hovering dangerously above her in a depressing overcast coloured a dismal gray. She would have much preferred to have Kivek at her side at that moment but he had become otherwise occupied. The manservant came to find out that it wasn't the brightest idea in the world to leave bread unattended in the oven for longer periods of time than it should have been, the new black scorch marks running up the front of the contraption and all along the inside on the once shimmering walls a prime token of his foolish folly.

Somehow, Gale felt as though a thing like that was likely to happen with Kivek being the way that he was, no doubt all of the time and much to the dismay of Jeeves.

The small crowds of people that once scoured the beautiful, lush, green grounds of the gardens had scarpered off down the lane leading back to the Bowerstone Marketplace, fearing the imminent rain that threatened to pour with the approach of rumbles sounding through the heavens. How exquisite it was not to see the frilled-collar, bow legged, many chinned, and lazy inhabitants that called the area around the castle their home, the only thing remaining on the castle grounds being the guards sworn to their duty. Of course, that did not stop them from taking their attentive posts from within the safe confines of their watch boxes.

The drab of it all was stifling, the very air responding to the sight of darkening clouds and the sound of rolling thunder in the distance by spiking its humidity to a level that was deemed rightfully unbearable. Gale ignored the growing static in her already frizzed hair and headed leisurely down the road to the Marketplace, finding that standing by herself in the center of the gardens with nothing but the curious, yet shielded eyes of the guards trained on her every move far less entertaining than what she previously thought.

Snores that could have been mistaken for the grinding of stones nearly made her laugh when she passed by the slumbering guard standing "watch" under the stone archway, tiptoeing beyond him before breaking out into a silent run down the uneven cobblestone road. The last thing she wanted was to have a drawn out conversation with a half awake guard as to why she was leaving so late in the afternoon and when she would be returning.

As it would happen, it seemed the population as a whole of Bowerstone returned indoors. The vendors-- mongers of their own trade-- that had once so vigilantly stood beside their wooden booths covered almost completely in their merchandise now were nowhere to be seen amongst the small flocks of birds that had settled on the ground near to the water under the bridge. The sparrows stared up in anticipation to the maelstrom approaching that only they favoured, tweeting slowly about in small jumps and bounds that sent them forward across the cobbles.

How Gale longed for some sort of entertainment, wanting to take her mind away from what the future could possibly hold for her in the castle.

Soon, though, having circled about the marketplace for the umpteenth time chasing the birds away like a child, Gale found herself meandering down yet another length of road closed in between the ever-too-tight-knit homes of the less fortunate, making her way to a darker place.

The walls closed in around her as if sensing her nervousness of the dimming streets, the lanterns hanging low, unlit, and unkempt, covered in black soot that kept whatever light was to be held within from reaching the streets that begged for it.

Vicious, cold, calculating eyes followed Gale's every move down through the encroaching shadows at her sides. Every step she took on the bare dirt road shook up small clouds of dust and dirt in a morbid miasma, taken note by unseen watchmen spying on her from the collecting darkness. Marked out as not being like the others wandering the street in the late hours Gale took precautious light steps and kept to the rays of candle light shining through the wide windows lining the houses to either side of her.

The atmosphere reeked of disease and sex, the dark alleys off to her sides littered with collecting refuse that had been thrown so carelessly from windows high above the piles, small unwatched children running to and fro after the occasional stray chicken, and the wandering, soliciting harlot that did not question prime prey when they saw it. It was a home away from home, Gale thought, her memories wandering to the town by the sea, Bloodstone, in all its crude "glory".

Even with all those otherwise damnable things she couldn't help but smile and ignore the unseen stares that carved into her back like thrown daggers, continuing on with a look of optimism spread wide across her face and a certain skip to her step. All things aside, though, she remained somewhat watchful of the unruly surroundings encompassing her and took care to notice the small shuffle of feet scurrying behind her betwixt alleyways, eyes darting to the growing shadows that hid countless dangers.

Suddenly, darting out like a cockroach exposed to a bright light, a cutpurse began their pursuit silently behind her. He ducked low and sidled quickly against the rough brick walls behind her, pulling a small knife that had been tethered at his belt and wielding it for one simple strike he was sure would work. He aimed for the small purse tied tightly at Gale's waist by a piece of thick twine, a single, purple patch stitched into the bottom to prevent tearing when overstuffed, grinning maliciously all the while at such an easy steal the young woman would become. He smirked widely, a single gold tooth shining in his crocodile smile.

The space between them lessened and still he did not tarry, now short of Gale and hiding in the shadow cast just behind her from an early lit lantern. The cutpurse struck, racing forward with his jagged knife poised at the ready, his bare feet clapping quietly on the ground as he gained the last stretch on her.

But at the last moment Gale ducked and inspected something on the ground that piqued her curiosity, a small roly-poly making its way across the narrow street, and the cutpurse continued on.

With such a grievous error and overestimation of his strike he slid by and inevitably tripped just in front of Gale, skidding face first against the rough cobblestone with a moan. Gale eyed his curiously from her low vantage point and considered what could have possibly caused a random "bystander" to so suddenly lose balance before her and keel over into the unforgiving ground.

Before she ever had a chance to react, the man spun onto his haunches and lunged at her on all fours like a wild beast while she was caught off guard, throwing her violently to the ground with a forceful push to her chest. Helpless, she watched as his thin, spider-like fingers slid around the tether of her purse and ripped it free with a tug, the sound of her gold coins jingling while the bag swayed in his greedy paws.

"Wait, stop!" Gale cried, watching the man go with a leap. But he was already gone, down another alley just ahead, pushing those who got in his way to the sides rudely and sprinting on without so much as a look back. Try as she might, she struggled to her feet and ran after him, pulling herself around the sharp corner with the help of a tall, metal lantern post that leaned and creaked with her added weight. "Stop!" she tried again but in vain, for the thief was far ahead, spying back at her whilst she attracted attention to herself.

In blurs, the houses passed without any hint of difference in colour or shade, nothing but flashes of gray and brown here and there, appearing for a second and gone in an instant. In her race, lacking in better judgment, she ran out into the open only to find herself surrounded by a mass of congregating people conversing excitedly around a trade wagon and the strange items it held. Space between others was limited and out of the corner of her eye did Gale see the man making his way into the distance down another alleyway, all hope that she once had running from her eyes and the colour draining from her face like a flood that left her flesh a deathly white. Weakly, she reached out her hand and begged for his return silently, small tears forming in the corners of her eyes that soon found themselves running trails down her face in silver streams that shone in the light of the lanterns.

Stares weighed heavily on her shoulders from those she'd run in to, pushing her to the opposite end of the crowd from which she entered. Gale wiped away at her nose with her sleeve to prevent anyone from seeing her so distraught, preferring that she at least keep her dignity before they, too, somehow found a way to steal that. "Today's not my day, eh, Kivek?" she asked herself in a quivering voice that trembled with tears. "Look who's the blubbering baby, now."

Halfheartedly and saddened by the loss of all the money in her possession, the cumulative amount more than she ever had during her time in Bloodstone at any rate, Gale trudged about, pulling her gray overcoat tightly against her skin in the cold breezes that blew through the countless alleyways. The smells of strange meats and the like meandered through the thick air, as well as the rotting stench of open sewers running alongside the narrow paths running every which way. Bile rose in her throat in a mixture of unease and the foul combination of scents, causing her to gag as a reflex and steady herself against the wall for support momentarily.

Paying no heed to those around her she took one step too far and found herself running into a large, brown box that looked as though it were suspended in thin air, coming to find that it was, in fact, held up by three separated pegs spread out beneath it. The box bounced back and skidded loudly on the rough ground, a click echoing in her ears. A blinding light shot in her eyes and sent her reeling back on her heels, rubbing away her blinded vision with a groan that only irritated them more from what her tears had done. When the balls of light dispersed Gale squinted to make out what stood before her, a small lens greeting her that showed her wearied expression in its fine, glassy surface, dark, stained wood sitting underneath it leading back to the aforementioned box.

A puff of black smoke rose just above the device, dispersing into the dirtied air. "Oh! I'm surely sorry!" came a voice from behind the large box, a man sticking up his head curiously to take a look at what he'd caught in his strange machine's line of vision. "Must've not noticed you with my new 'Image Capturing Device' right 'ere. Still weedin' the bugs out of it, I am." Gale blinked her eyes in confusion and looked him up and down as he came out from behind the strange device.

From head to toe the man seemed an awkward thing, dressed in an old apron bearing the signs of crusted oil and stain that must've been from his device, odd goggles on his head with lenses in two different colours and sizes, large ears that protruded from the sides of his head, and a generous smile that could, at first, be considered sideways. Not to mention that his once clean face was dyed a deep black from the ball of smoke that escaped from the back of the device, directly where he had been standing. He leaned heavily against the machine at his side and stuck his finger under his small cap to scratch his head, looking to be in thought. He did not bother to wipe away the smudges of black lining the small wrinkles running along his cheeks, and actually ended up spreading them farther when he went to move his hand across his face.

"An 'Image Capturing Device'?" Gale inquired, echoing what he'd said before with hesitation to the new saying. "I've never heard of such a thing."

The man grinned lopsidedly at this, sticking a single thumb into the air, "Of course!" he beamed, answering excitedly, "Barnum's wondrotorious Image Capturing Device!" he announced proudly, patting the machine like a father would to their son with loving affection, "I'll be betwazzled when I can finally get it to work right. The problem is I lack the… um… necessary funds at the moment." The man, who Gale was guessing was named Barnum, stole a glance behind him to where an empty space laid with but a small wooden stage, once again scratching his head in deep contemplation.

Gale pulled out the pocket linings of her overcoat and displayed them like flags of poverty, feeling strange for not having the familiar weight of a purse on her hip, "I'm in the same boat as you… if it weren't for a few minutes ago, I might have helped…" He nodded and turned to take a quick glance at her pulled pockets, understanding what she meant. "I'm a little short of coin myself. But from the looks of this place, aren't we all?" She finished at length, pushing her pockets back inside and leaving her hands with them in a huff, hunching her shoulders against the stares digging into her back from the group she'd left behind in front of the trade wagon.

Barnum bit his dirtied, chipped fingernails with a stifled groan and looked around before taking his weight from the device, pulling together the three legs into a tight bundle and hoisting it up onto his shoulder and pivoting his leg so that he could hold it better. He chewed at the inside of his cheek and turned away, preparing to go down the wide alley, waving her to follow behind as if he wanted to explain something. But as he began to walk he leaned back under the new weight of his Image Capturing Device, cursing under his breath at his lousy misfortune.

Gale caught the device and held it up in the nick of time, pushing under the box to distribute the weight better on Barnum's shoulder. "That would have been nasty, wouldn't it?" she jested, watching relief wash over the man's face at the unexpected help, a sigh brushing past his lips. "If you happen to get more money maybe you can try making it just a wee bit smaller… merely for convenience." They laughed together, Barnum's a strange chortle against the light giggling that was Gale's, walking down the alleyway deeper into Old Town.

Gale found herself enjoying the company of the rather eccentric Barnum, laughing at the strange words that he obviously made up himself or found somewhere in a ridiculous book written by someone who she considered to be far from sane. It was a well deserved reprieve from the thought of having her money taken so easily earlier and that she had met someone not moments afterwards that shared the same dilemma, whether it be from the same cause or not.

Barnum left her after a while to venture out back to wherever it was that he was staying, leaving her with the final promise that he would get his device up and running and make a name for himself. Perhaps it was farfetched, or he truly did have a clever invention on his hands. To Gale, she wished him the best of luck and hoped that maybe one day they would meet in the future.

Eventually, a guard box loomed just ahead of her after returning back to the small area where the trade wagon was located, off to the side away from the hustle and bustle, placed against the stone wall that separated the areas of Old Town. She hadn't noticed it before on account that no guard at the moment her coin purse had been stolen was standing watch, aggravated with the fact that if one had been there she wouldn't have been so down on her luck on trying to help her newly acquired friend.

The guard, Derek, Gale had come to learn, stood outside his box like a figurehead of authority, going so far as to currently have three young men bound on the ground at his feet in rusted iron shackles. Although the metal had long since been rusted, it remained as operational as the day it had been made.

"Caught these hooligans, I did!" Derek announced proudly upon Gale's approach, pulling on the chain connecting the three men together in a tight knit circle. He'd seen the curious look splayed on her face and answered accordingly with what he knew she was going to ask. "Thieves, they all be! Pickpockets, cutpurses, and con-artists! All a horrible lot!" he thumped his mighty barrel shaped chest with his fist in front of the astonished young woman, who was now looking at each of the bound men individually to see if she recognized any of them to be the one who took her gold pieces.

One in particular caught her eye… his head was turned away from her and bowed down to his feet in remorse, avoiding any and all eye contact with her.

Derek went so far as to straighten his back and click his heels sharply together to prove his point, his smirk seen against the dark stubble growing on his wide chin. "You ought to get goin', Missy. Old Town ain't the place to be when it gets dark. Especially for the likes of a youngin' like you." The men gave her bewildered stares as she gazed down at them deep in thought, with the exception of the one man still keeping his straight, hard stare down at his pointed end boots.

"Hold on…" Gale started unsteadily, holding her hand to the guard for him to be quiet for but a moment. "You!" she yelled in anger, lashing with the point of her gloved finger at the man that avoided her gaze ever so desperately. "You're the one that took my coin purse!" Much to the surprise of the cutpurse, who now looked Gale fully in the face for the first time to reveal that it was he who did indeed take what was hers, Derek slammed down with all the power in his toned arm and tore up the chain, hoisting the men into the air so they hovered just off the ground in front of him.

"Who done it?" he asked, the chain suspending the men spinning them slightly so that each of them caught the glare hovering just below the bowed brim of the guard's hat. Gale pointed to the man with the single gold tooth, who happened to be gnashing his teeth from the tightening of the shackles around his wrists, and accused him. "Really, now? What be your evidence, young miss?"

"His tooth." She stated bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest, "The man who took it had a single gold tooth in his mouth; I wouldn't forget it." Derek released the men and let them fall to the ground in a heap the proceeded to go through the cutpurse's belongings in search of the coin purse. Gale informed him of its appearance, that it had a large, purple patch on its bottom with small gold threading holding it together, and in a moment Derek pulled forth a flattened bag from the inside of the man's vest. Gale smiled for a brief second but was disheartened, accepting the empty bag and holding it in her hands like something dear… every single gold piece had been taken… she was left with nothing.

Figures, Gale thought quietly to herself, I can never win.

She took a step back and smiled nervously with a gentle pull at the collar of her hooded, gray overcoat, nodding in appreciation. "That's a bit of a disappointment, ain't it?" Derek tried, at least giving a shot at quelling the depression that swept across Gale's features. "Not much I can do about it… Terribly sorry, Miss."

She shook her head and smiled weakly, pocketing her emptied purse inside one of the deep openings of her coat, "It's alright." she paused and shunned all around her to organize her thoughts, "Anyway, I'll make sure to be out of here before nightfall, Sir." Gale assured him. She dipped slightly into a small, shallow bow, and all the while sent a final venomous glare, her lip curled in disgust, to the bound man sporting the gold tooth that said "best of luck, you bastard" and scurried off down the lane.

Out behind her, Derek gave an appropriate farewell, waving like a git with his hat before redirecting his attention to the heap of prisoners just at his feet.

Sadly, though, and much to Gale's collecting misfortune, she had aimlessly tarried deeper into the slums, delving into an area that she had yet to realise she could not find her way out of and back to the Marketplace. The old shambles of homes towered over her small figure like colossi, their ever growing shadows looming dangerously over her and spilling into the alleys that marred the spaces between the homes and businesses alike. The slow, steady creaking of hanging signs upon their rusted fastenings were the only few noises that added to the eerie ambience surrounding her other than the occasional breaking of glass or sound of a stray dog barking far off in the distance, giving the slums an uninviting atmosphere of death and sorrow. Apart from all the things that accompanied her, Gale found the sky to be the most threatening and terrifying of all.

The clouds, ebon in colour in various places against the void of the darkened sky, rumbled dangerously and flashed with the occasional blinding light of a bolt from the blue, shining against the stars that gleamed like gems. Rain was seen pouring from the heavens far out over the sea bordering Bowerstone, over parts unknown to Gale, blackening the violent evening sky more than what was thought possible.

Gale was ignored or berated as she prudently asked passerby as to how she would go about returning to the main Marketplace, and was nearly run down on numerous occasions by a band of riotous children romping around the streets like their own personal playground, hooting and hollering about nothing in particular.

Things were becoming unsettling far too quickly for her liking, coming to the conclusion that she would be forced to ask one of the less attractive citizens of the slums or find Derek again in the hopes that she could get directions.

Going so far as to stop at an inconspicuous alleyway, Gale thought in her head whether or not it would be the most intelligent thing to do: to venture in and ask the dark shape standing out amongst the collected crates and barrels.

The man's back had been turned to her when she arrived a few feet behind him, his shoulders wide and held stiff, rippling with unseen muscle beneath the heavy leather of his blackened attire. A sanguine cowl covered the top of his head, spreading down across his unseen face and over the bridge of his nose until it was tied securely at the back near the neap of his neck, his dark, calculating eyes shifting about through the hand cut eyes holes marring the front of his mask. He heard Gale's approach from out on the main street, hoping deep down that she would not gain on him like a naïve fool.

Of course, things never happen the way one hopes and the girl stood shyly, adjusting her footing on the ground, behind him.

"Excuse me." Gale called quietly, looking back to the alley entrance in fear that someone would try to catch her off guard again. Unknowingly, this prompted the questionable man before her. A slow gulp slid down her throat, the man gazing over his shoulder with steel glinting in his eyes, telling nothing but mischief.

A rounded pebble resting just behind Gale's foot nearly tripped her whilst she took a step back, the man turning curtly on his heel to face her head on. The full extreme of his eyes caught her and held her in place, transfixed by the unusual hue of colour that looked nothing to be but the blackest black beneath the shadow of his cowl. "Do you know to whom you're speaking, Girl?"

His voice, suave and tantalizing to the ears, did nothing to soothe the increasing tension in Gale's body, the young girl beginning to doubt the idea that it was bright to try and converse with him. "No…" she replied nervously and took another step of her own back to keep a comfortable space between them. He trudged forward threateningly in response, as if sensing the fear and doubt that now coursed through Gale's blood. How fear seemed to play across her face at that very moment, held by the hypnotic stare of the unknown man. It was an obvious enjoyment to him, the slight hint of a wicked smirk forming on his thin lips.

Before she had a chance to recover Gale found her chin held betwixt his thumb and forefinger, holding her in place. She became too frightened to resist, her widened eyes scanning over the visible handsome features that the man holding her possessed. "What is it you want?" His voice came through a hiss, "The Assassination Society does not take kindly to those that ask questions." He grinned, seeing Gale's eyes shift over his face, "But you don't even know of us, do you? Too frightened of a child to realise the horrors of the world in which you live."

Gale accepted the cryptic insult stoically and, instead, focused on what the man mentioned. "The Assassination Society?" she questioned quietly to her captor, "Wait… d-do you know of a man named Fortenbrasse, then?"

The man, now obviously angered with a potential member of the society being mentioned moved his hand swiftly from Gale's chin down to her arm, tightening his grasp around it so that it made her yelp from the sudden pain. To deter her suffering a bit caused by the man's forceful tug back towards the open end of the alleyway she flexed her arm, but only received yet another jerk that silenced her fully.

Almost as though she were garbage, he threw her back out into the street with a nonchalant scoff and watched her fall flat onto her chin, her coattails flowing over her head unceremoniously.

"Get out of here."The assassin barked and crossed his arms overtop his wide chest, "Never speak of this. Leave while I still let you." He added with the turn of his back to her, not bothering to send a second glace back to see if she acknowledged the threat. The stone and dirt street felt like ice beneath Gale's sore body while the darkness beneath her upturned coat could do nothing but hide the embarrassment that flooded her face, her chin bleeding due to a scrape she endured during her fall.

Perhaps I shouldn't have asked that, Gale wondered, fixing her belongings before finally regaining her feet firmly on the ground.

The telltale signs that night descended on her shone with the lighting of the remainder of the lanterns along the now empty slum roads, and the scurrying of feet into nearby homes telling her that the rain she'd expected all throughout the evening would bombard her with its stinging, unforgiving fall. During the hours that passed the sky grew black, no stars shining through the gloom shrouding the heavens beneath the thick storm clouds. Not even Castle Fairfax, her destination, far out into the foggy distance, the bright lights from within shining like one thousand eyes of a monster only known in nightmares, could resist the darkness that turned it into a shadow on the horizon.

Much to the surprise of Gale and hours later that she could not hope to count, the clock tower of the market square loomed ahead of her, its clicking golden gears glowing in the dim lights of the many buildings as she approached.

As fate would have it, with one good thing a miserable one was soon to follow. The pounding rain drowned out her ignited hopes, extinguishing them like a candle for the last time to leave her in the gloom to which she'd become accustomed. Gale pulled the hood of her soaked coat low onto her face to block out the unforgiving prickles of rain that pelted her like needles and trudged on, tightening the fabric around her chilled chest in an attempt to keep herself warm against the now blowing winds.

The proprietor of the Cow and Corset, an unfavourable man with a mouth that slurred and swore, stopped her with an outstretched hand that simply told her "no admittance", to which Gale did not understand. Logic would dictate that she was there earlier and rented a room out from him for a few hours, but from the man's reddened face and sunken eyes she couldn't help but feel that she would be better off walking in the rain than trying to deal with a drunk.

The tall and towering stone archway that served as the entrance to Fairfax Gardens hovered over her, blocking out the rain for a brief moment before she continued on down the muddy path leading up to the wide double doors of the castle. The guards paid Gale no mind this time around from within the warm safety of their watch boxes, the heavy rain thumping against their tiny roofs blocking out anything in the distance and making it simply a figure that could not be differentiated between the other blurs behind it.

Jeeves, someone Gale was expecting to see lurking beyond the doors, was nowhere to be found. Not skulking down the hall mumbling curses under his breath, not hiding within the small niches that lined the corridors so that he may leap out and take an unsuspecting maid by surprise, and not trotting about with his long, hooked nose raised into the air in what looked to be a way to keep his constantly falling glasses up. Gale took this as a sign of good luck… which was in short supply for that day… and headed down the hall, small puddles soaking the floor in her wake and water dripping noiselessly from her coat onto the carpet and tiles.

Gale couldn't help but let out a small, almost forced laugh as a curse echoed into the dining hall from the throne room. Obviously, it had been bad form to not clean up the puddles she left behind like a good maid, but it was more Jeeves' fault for having his nose turned up so high into the air. Otherwise, he may have seen the watery disasters leading towards the kitchen and followed them to find the perpetrator, Gale, smirking shortly on her way down the stairs.

Warm air seeped up the creaking stairs from within the small kitchen, a faint, red glow cast against the wall opposite of the door from the intensity of the cleaned oven working effortlessly on newly made bread. Try as hard as she might to stay jovial Gale couldn't hold the happy thoughts gained from Jeeves' fall, remembering the cold intensity of the assassin's eyes and the bite of the cold sitting on her skin from her wet overcoat, remembering what she'd endured over the hours she'd spent away from the confines of the castle.

Kivek leaned lazily against the relaxing warmth of the oven, his eyes closed and small puffs of smoke escaping the pipe held in his mouth. He propped one eye open long enough to catch Gale entering the room, her hand resting on the doorframe as she leaned on it for support, burrowing her face against her arm. He could only laugh at the miserable sight that stood before him, but realized that she was not sharing in his amusement.

Wheezing while he pulled himself away from the oven Kivek walked over, inspecting Gale's drooped shoulders and hidden face from afar before approaching her closer. "Wha' happened?" he inquired, catching his pipe as it went to fall from his mouth and placing it on a small cutting board to his side. She pulled away from the doorframe and sulked to meet him halfway, burrowing her face into his chest when she made it, forgetting to lower her hood back down to sit on her back.

Without so much as a word Gale's shoulders quivered in unison with her short gasps for air, her coat soaking Kivek's clothes. She clung at the hemming of his vest for support and let flow the tears from her eyes that she wanted for so long that evening to let out, the man on whom she cried standing still as stone so that he may register what was going on. "Wha' happened?" He tried again, bowing his head and encompassing his strong arms around her protectively.

Gale's voice came out mumbled against his now wet clothes, her wet hair clinging to her reddened cheeks beneath her hood. "I was robbed… l-lost… threatened… and then got stuck in the rain for o-over an hour…" she managed through her tears, staining the manservant's clothes, and tightened her grip against the soft fabric held in her hands.

Kivek's large hands settled gently onto her shoulders comfortingly and pushed her away only slightly so that he may look her in the face. Against what she may have wanted he pulled the hood away and from her visage and threw it behind her. "Hey…" he tried, lifting her chin with a hand so that he may see her better. Her once brown eyes shone like a deep gold against the red of her cheeks, her ginger hair dyed a dark brown and sticking to the sides of her face like dying vines of withered ivy. "It's alright, Gale." The softness of a handkerchief pulled from a hidden pocket from the inside of his vest stroked her face, removing the tears that stormed down her cheeks and neck.

"Let me promise you somethin'." He tried; catching Gale's attention and making her look him in the eye with a small whimper under her breath that she tired with all her might to hold back. He bowed low, no matter the ache in his back, so he could be at the same level she stood on, and met her eyes with a comforting gaze. Gently, he gave her his signature smirk, "From here on out," he removed the remainder of her tears and cupped her cheeks, stroking one with his thumb, "Big Brother Kivek will protect you. From the know-nothin's, to thieves, to Jeeves. That I do promise."

This made her laugh softly and send him a pained smile, something that he wanted dearly to see over the saddened expression that was there before. She hiccupped during her laugh, making her realise how much of a child she must have looked like. There was a comfortable silence between them until Kivek steadied himself and settled back against the oven he was once leaning against, giving Gale ample space to dry her eyes and collect herself on her own.

"You promise?" she asked with fear shining in her clearing orbs.

"On my honour."

**-0-0-0-0- **

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**CHAPTER 6: **

**THE EMPTY LIBRARY **

_Longer than usual, I suppose But that's a good thing unless there's never enough time to read... then I understant the inconvenience..._


	6. An Empty Library

First of all I want to thank **PACWOMAN** for reviewing. It's much appreciated. You make me feel awesome when you take the time to do that.

Anyway, I own nothing related to Fable, for it all belongs to Lionhead Studios. I do, though, own Gale, Kivek, Fortenbrasse, and anyone else that happens to show up. You can also find me on deviantart under the name of ESUERC, as well.

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I can't wait to get to chapter 10... that one make me happy...

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**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 6: AN EMPTY LIBRARY**

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The months passed slowly by like a cool spring breeze, gently pushing away the last remnants of a harsh winter, a bittersweet beginning to the new life Gale chose to endure. Kivek, seemingly the only friend she truly came to know in the hallowed, empty halls of the dreadfully beautiful Castle Fairfax, accompanied her constantly regardless of time or place for what seemed the simple pleasure of merely having her company over that of Jeeves'. That, and his promise to her always remained fresh in his mind.

Much to Jeeves' surprise, and almost on a daily basis, small tricks had been laid out for him by none other than the manservant and scullery maid, further increasing his already immeasurable ire for the young woman and unscrupulous man when he came to find out that it was none other than them playing their childish games. He would grumble, scowl, shout, yell, berate, but it did nothing but amuse the two even more.

Many things began to catch the young girl's attention when she went about her daily routine like never ending clockwork, pretending all the while that what she'd noticed she held no interest in with a stoic look of indifference plastered across her pale face. Even in that misleading façade she could not hold back her growing fascination with the "Old Kingdom", as she had come to learn it called, and Kivek came to learn after many times catching her that she was adamant with learning about it.

Lord Lucien, secreted away high above the town of Bowerstone within the safe seclusion of his tower, separated from all other parts of the castle on a multitude of levels both literally and figuratively, spoke constantly on the subject.

In his talks with the mage, he was entirely oblivious to the amount of time Gale would stay purposefully in his study to simply hear him ramble on for what could have been countless hours. Of course, Garth was one to note of it immediately but said nothing on the subject fearing that the repercussions would lead to her being kept from the room from there on out; surprised that someone so young was taking an interest in their studies.

Garth could have very well not been listening to the constant play of fanciful words escaping Lucien's mouth, but nevertheless, he was there day in and day out, from sunrise to sunset, and so on and so forth, enlisting his own brand of genius in the Lord's secretive plans that not even he spoke of in the presence of Gale. Gale would stare with child-like fascination in her eyes at the very mention of their studies, and she would look down upon the gardens not far in the distance beneath her here a new digging site lay before reporting back to her duties, thinking that no one had noticed her.

The archaeological study taking place in the corner of the grand garden was her prime interest Garth noticed; slipping to where she stood after having seen her leave to see what exactly caught her eye. Amusing, it was, to the gentleman that the young girl would take up such an interest rather than tend to her own duties, but understood that curiosity often went against one's best interests.

One day, in the wee hours of the morning in the shadows of the rising sun out on the horizon, Gale stood alone at the center of the long hallway running to Lucien's study out on the balcony overlooking the entirety of the town and beyond, past the rolling hills that cast stray streaks of darkness across the land. The fog hovering over the town like a misty veil glistened in the rays of the sun, a myriad of colours playing on the innumerable roofs numbered perhaps in the thousands in a splay of golden orange and brown hues standing beneath the fog like a gentle sea. Those kinds of mornings, as simple as they were, became one of Gale's personal times where she could be alone. To look out upon the town in revered silence and watch the small ant-like figures scurry to and fro in the castle gardens to prepare for the day's study amongst the crags and dust of the archaeology site, to listen to the breeze play a unique melody against the worn stone of the castle.

Unbeknownst to Gale, caught in her reverie, a figure stood beneath the stone arch, lined with many carvings of cherubs and flowers, which served as the entrance to the balcony. They waited a moment to ponder on the idea of approaching the engrossed girl and asking what had so caught her eye, even thought they'd already deduced what it was, but remained silent as if to allow her a moment longer to enjoy the spectacle the morning sun played on the landscape.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" They finally asked at length, breaking the silence that had long since grown old. Gale jumped, slightly spooked by the sudden interruption of the calm voice behind her, the sound escaping with the gentle wind rather than echoing down the hall behind them. They stepped out from the seclusion of the waning shadows of the archway and into the light of the sun, their gait leisurely as a hand rested on the small dagger hanging on their hip, the other in a coat pocket.

"Morning, Master Garth." Gale replied, quickly correcting herself and standing tall and dignified as instructed by Kivek. "Did you need something by chance?" He shook his head and brought himself to stand at the stone railing of the balcony, proceeding to look upon the sight Gale took in moments before with a look that was unreadable.

There was another silence, but it was ignored by Gale as she jumped up and sat upon the railing without so much as an ounce of fear for the inevitable and obviously painful demise she would endure should she topple from her perch, kicking her feet under her so that they hit the stone of the wall.

"Be careful." Garth warned, eyeing with suspicion at the young girl's lack of safety with her arms held over her chest rather than to her sides where she could grasp at the railing. She sent him a glance with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and simply told him "I know" to hopefully sate his worry. It did not, though, and the older gentleman now found himself checking out of the corner of his eye to see if she was minding where she sat, not enjoying the fact that he would have to be the one to act should something happen.

A small sparrow landed softly at Gale's side and bounced about without so much as a cautious tweet at her, ensured that she would do nothing of the sort to scare it. "I'm simply waiting for Lord Lucien to wake so we may continue our planning." Garth announced cryptically, almost as if to break the constant howl of the breeze against the many cracks and crevices splayed in the castle wall. Gale extended her hand toward the sparrow curiously to see if it would possibly trust her enough to sit atop it or allow her to stroke its feathers, all the while listening intently to Garth as he explained something along the lines of "the base of the spire in the ocean" or something near to that.

Maybe she wasn't listening as closely as she thought…

In a colourful burst of small, fluffed feathers did the sparrow break away at the touch of Gale's fingertips upon its back, tweeting angrily before swooping up just in front of her face and into the vast expanse of the sky beyond. She yelped at the sudden burst of flight, lifting her arms instinctively to cover her face, unknowingly putting herself in far greater danger that she could have possibly imagined. Swinging her arms in a feeble attempt to grab hold of the stone railing sliding out from beneath her groping hands Gale teetered back and went head over heels over the rail, a yelp rumbling in her throat as the feeling of the rough stone on the seat of her pants disappeared.

The world around her, now upside-down, showed Gale a different view as she fell back briefly, unaware of what was befalling her. The sea of fog and glistening colours of the many roofs was her new sky, a heavenly expanse above her and the open air a bleak, endless void of shapeless land, a tundra blue in colour with flat sheets of ice dotting its surface under her feet. How simply wonderful a world like that would be, she thought, oblivious to the binding pressure now clamped down around her ankle, to have the sun and the sky under her feet and the old world act as the heavens above.

One sound reeled Gale back from her momentary loss of reality, belonging to Garth, who leaned heavily against the railing for support as he tightly held his hands around her ankle. "What did I tell you about being careful?" he scolded, vexed by her carelessness. Agonising moments slipped by without a word while he went about the task of hoisting Gale back up to safety, the young girl hoping that she wouldn't be berated for her actions, or lack thereof.

Gale's once inquisitive eyes were now downcast to the stone floor finally beneath her. "Sorry…" she managed to apologise, weakly trying to defend herself. She thought it funny to say something along the lines that her face had not grown red with embarrassment but from the sudden blood rush that had been thrown at her from her precarious position, but decided against it at the judging scowl written across the towering scholar's face. "I know…"

"That is what you said before." Garth retorted curtly, watching her lean against the wall and smile sheepishly up at him that easily showed her growing nervousness.

"I blame the sparrow." She tried, mumbling it under her breath so that anyone else would have to strain to hear, and accepted Garth's offer to help her back onto her feet. Standing, a wave of dizziness engulfed her, making her twist and turn to regain her lost balance and hold her hand against the railing. All the while, Garth waited patiently and prepared himself should Gale somehow, heaven forbid, go tumbling over again.

A loud plodding of heavy footfalls pounding against the plush carpet down the hallway signaled to the two that they were no longer alone. Within seconds, the top heavy figure of Kivek breached the archway, pipe in hand and a newly trimmed goatee upon his face. "Hey there, Garth!" he greeted happily, slapping the other man's shoulder playfully. Garth mumbled quietly beneath his breath and fixed the fallen eyepiece threatening to slide down his cheek, proceeding to look at the manservant incredulously. "Come on, Gale. You got kitchen duty this mornin'. Hop to it." Kivek stated, his smile gleaming as she passed him with more than a hint of annoyance- her morning routine destroyed.

"Firecracker, that one." He continued on when he was sure that Gale had scarpered down the dim corridor and back through the onslaught of winding, tiring steps of the many leveled staircase leading to the kitchen on the opposite side of the throne room. A puff of wispy, gray smoke hovered into the air from Kivek's slightly parted lips, its colour nearly matching that of the thin clouds scattered in the expanse of light blue. He replaced where Gale had been standing with himself and took a long draw, blowing the smoke from his nose with a smirk that looked forever etched on his face.

"I still do not believe that someone of her age should be working within the castle," Garth admitted when he felt the intense stare of Kivek, wishing to once again voice his opinion to the only man he was sure would relay the information back to the young girl whether he wanted it or not, "Regardless of how she has adapted to the lifestyle, I feel—"

A grim visage spread wide across the gaunt face of Kivek, his arms crossing over his wide, muscular chest with a slight bow of his head so it angled toward Garth. "She 'as nowhere else to go." He interrupted, "An' I take good care of her here as if she were me own sister." He had to snort, imaging Gale to be an innocent child void of the constant grumbling and wily remarks she was known for. "No need for her to be elsewhere."

Wishing to change the subject to something they would hopefully both agree on, Garth thought through for a split second on what he had planned to say to Gale himself. "I was beginning to think, perhaps, I could loan her some books to read." Kivek sent him a look that told him of the expansive library the castle already possessed but Garth dismissed it with a simple wave of his hand. "Not many books on the Old Kingdom remain, and I would trust her reading things I have already gone through countless times over instead of the babble of a man that may not know what he's talking about. Gale seems taken by it as of late." He looked briefly to the manservant to see him in a contemplative stance, his chin resting in his hand and his pipe hanging loosely from his mouth. "If that's quite alright with you. I would rather ask someone such as yourself than inquire Lucien on the subject."

A grin spread across Kivek's thin lips approved of it, sweeping the look that once read of doubt away. "Give her a new hobby, I would suppose."

Later that day, once Lord Lucien had woken from his lonely, nightmarish slumber ridden with images of his departed wife and child, did Garth find himself situated once more in his usual spot within the confines of the study. "I have something I wish to ask of you, Lucien." Garth said in the unbearable quiet that he was beginning to become accustomed. Lucien sent him a wary glance over his shoulder before returning back to the massive, yellowed and aged book laid out before him on the long desk against the wall nearest the large, ornate, stained-glass window.

A grunt was all Garth received in reply, but he expected no different with the intense study his counterpart had taken recently on newfound information regarding the Tattered Spire. "Agree or disagree, it is your choosing, but I wish to ask of you about the young woman, Gale, you currently have working here in the castle."

The hand that had been scanning the vast lines of indecipherable runes, sigils, and maps drawn on the old parchment pages stopped abruptly, Lucien's body going ever so rigid that even for a moment it was noticeable to the other scholar present. "What of her?" he asked shortly. Lucien straightened with his back, still turned to face Garth on the opposing side of the room, his hands held just below the gold trimming of his regal vest.

With a quiet, resigned sigh Garth took the initiative to continue, "I wish to propose that Gale become an apprentice of sorts to yourself and I on studying the Old Kingdom. She has taken an interest as of late, I've noticed." A contemplative look crossed the Lord's face at the proposition, weighing out what could possibly happen with Gale's new job if she were to essentially abandon her duties as scullery maid and work alongside them. "But then, she could very well be just my apprentice if that were to bother you."

"I find her company to be rather cumbersome," The Lord tested, not entirely weighing his words, " so I am sorry to say that I must simply decline your request." He heaved his chest in a great sigh and scanned over the book in front of him with feigned interest. "The castle is short on staff as of now, and I cannot afford to relieve her of her duties she has sworn to uphold." His eyes narrowed unconsciously at the thought of having the young girl beside them in the rebuilding of the Spire, "Perhaps in the future."

In the dimming light of the evening in the warmth of the kitchen, Gale wandered about taking care of things that Kivek had left behind on the stove or in the oven to once again burn with his carelessness, running off to who knows where to do who knows what. A heavy, leather-bound book weighed on her arms while she carried it ahead of her, her eyes following the thin lines of text on how to cook duck correctly. She bit her lip and read over and over the same paragraph to try and understand it, the words looking like a different language to her with all the little scribbles the manservant wrote along the sides at another point in time. The light emanating from the stove behind her offered ample glow for her to read on the many herbs and spices used to amplify the taste of the dish, the task looking much easier when she'd seen Kivek do it once before.

So engulfed in trying to do the best job possible, Gale did not hear the light creaking of the kitchen steps leading down from the dining hall, nor did she feel the presence of someone behind her afterward. She was utterly oblivious to the looming figure even as it stood barely a foot behind her, her eyes still eagerly racing across the cookbook to comprehend it. Only until the figure cleared their throat did she turn in a fit of fear, the rug slipping under her kicking feet and book dropping from her hands and onto one of the lit burners.

"Lord Lucien!" Gale started with her hands behind her back resting on the edge of the stove for support, bowing her head, "Terribly sorry, my Lord, I should have noticed you earlier." A small kick sent the rug back in place and she pushed herself away from the device, not noticing the strange smell wafting into the air. "What might I help you with?"

"Perhaps taking the book off the burner would be the best idea?" Lucien answered, craning his head to see a small lick of fire just behind the young girl making its way around the corners of the book. Gale guffawed and stood their pensively as if she'd just been told a riddle before the statement finally registered in her mind, turning in a flash to snatch away the now burning book before it was entirely ruined. Covering the fire with a towel, she successfully put it out and set it down on a nearby stool, wafting at it a few more times to ensure it was extinguished.

"I simply wanted to inform you," Lucien paused and took a second glance at the curious book, raising a brow and directing his eyes back to Gale standing in front of him, "that Master Garth and I shall be away for some time. I trust that you and Kivek shall not cause much trouble for Jeeves?"

Gale grinned lopsidedly and scratched the back of her head like a nervous twitch, "Of course, yes, sir." She went to inquire whether or not the venture involved the project they'd been working on but Lucien silenced her unvoiced question with a raised hand just as she opened her mouth to speak.

"It is none of your concern. I expect the castle to be no less taken care of upon our return, is that clear?" There was a slight growl hidden underneath the elegance of his smooth voice that Gale couldn't help but notice, but she said nothing on it.

"Yes, sir." She said with another slight bow. Gale watched him go back towards the stairs and ascend, spotting the small glance he sent her over his shoulder before he disappeared from sight. She sighed and relaxed, falling down onto her bottom and taking up the book from the stool. But she scowled…

Not only would Kivek be upset with what she'd done with his precious book… she'd forgotten what page she was on.

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**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**CHAPTER 7: THE ANCIENT TOWER**


	7. The Ancient Tower

I do not own any of the Fable Characters. I do own, however, my characters, Gale, Kivek, Fortenbrasse, and whoever else I happen to create.

If you wish to find me I am also on DEVIANTART under the name of ESUERC.

**FABLE II **

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**CHAPTER 7: THE ANCIENT TOWER**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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Every night from there on out during the time that Lucien and Garth were on their quest out at sea, Gale sat in the dark recesses of the Servants' quarters with nothing but the dying light of a shortening candle to keep her company and keep back the imposing shadows. Forever and longer did she sit there with one of her many books sitting on her lap, her dark brown eyes scanning over the faded texts and interpreting the worn pictures. Kivek watched her from his bed before he would turn away and allow sleep to carry him off every night as his friend would read for what seemed like an eternity, or until her candle finally burned out and left her with thoughts focused on the past, of things written in the pages of the small collection Garth loaned her.

To say the least, she had an interesting hobby as of late, something Kivek considered better than romping around the wide expanse of Bowerstone without the slightest knowledge of where she was going, and instead, decided to spend her time toiling over countless waking hours with her literature until fatigue took her.

Overwrought with the fluttering feelings in her quivering stomach at the notion of continuing on, Gale waited anxiously but patiently for the return of Lord Lucien and Master Garth. Almost every morning, besides standing out on the balcony in the hall leading to Lucien's study to watch the sun rise, she was found to be sitting on the main steps of the castle staring out to the stone archway far across the gardens. Cloyed by her constant reading, Kivek took the initiative of maintaining a majority of the duties set about the castle that he was used to doing by himself before Gale arrived many months ago, worried that perhaps the young girl should take a short break from her constant urges to learn. Nevertheless, he waited alongside her for what must have been over a week, surprised one night to find that Gale went straight to bed rather than sitting in the darkness reading.

He had to inquire the next morning over a small breakfast composed of biscuits and cheese as to why she had not read, to which she replied happily with a wry smile, "I finished the books he gave me already."

Kivek merely shook his head at this, smirking at her undying enthusiasm.

Written across her visage clear as day was the happiness Gale had upon seeing a carriage arrive later that week, scuttling down the hall and grabbing hold of Kivek's vest tails to drag him along to greet the return of Lord Lucien and Master Garth. Kivek stood annoyed, his arms crossed over his broad chest, beside the miniscule chamberlain Jeeves, sneering at him as he shot Gale a dirty look behind her back just beneath the gleam of his glasses. Surprised, Garth was, when he came to find that Gale had already finished reading the books she'd been loaned, understanding fully that she truly held an interest. Lord Lucien, of course, brushed past their conversation regarding whatever it was that Garth saw in the young girl and strode into the castle alongside Jeeves, leaving Kivek outside to wait.

Not much was said regarding the venture the two took, the only thing Gale being able to determine was that they had been at sea the entirety of the time on account of the pungent smell of salt wafting through the warm air, staining their clothes and an assortment of other things. All returned to normal, with the exception of the growing tension between Kivek and Jeeves at the inappropriate behavior he was displaying at the girl's heels, the manservant not at all appreciating the total lack of respect for his friend. That, of course, was to be expected, but Gale remained oblivious to it.

Kivek knew well how to keep things under wraps… such as the growing bruise that mysteriously appeared around the chamberlain's eye and the crack running up one of the lenses of his glasses. That, and the loose tooth lodged back into place just at the back of Jeeves' mouth.

Many more months drifted by and countless more books, each as old if not more so than the last, found themselves at Gale's waiting grasp, the young girl having ample time to read them with the increasing regularity of Lord Lucien and Garth's outings to the crashing waves of the vast Sea. The passing of the months brought about a significant change to the castle, as well. No longer did Kivek and Gale spend their time in the servants' quarters alone, rather, there had been an increase in accepting more servants. This posed somewhat of a conundrum for Gale, for she could not fully grasp why Lucien saw it fit to have such an influx of workers for something she, Kivek, and Jeeves would readily do.

The already tight quarters were now cramped with bunks and single beds, stretching out to the corners of the room until nearly all of the walls lay hidden beneath their thick frames of wood. The stench of unwashed laundry hung in the air of the room and to escape it all Gale was often found asleep in the library just near to the throne room, curled up against the shelves or nestled into one of the corners with nothing but a wool blanket to keep herself warm from the chilling bite of the cold castle walls.

It was not Gale's place to question the authority of Lord Lucien, and so she remained stoic about her obvious dislike for the idea of having so many servants. Not normal servants, to say the least, either. No other women had been accepted other than her, and the countless number of men that took up the job seemed rather qualified for guard duty over that of a maid or a cook. Not only was this a puzzling sight, but Gale began to notice that groups of men would disappear along with Lucien and Garth when they went out to sea and would not return with the Lord and Scholar at a later time.

Working behind the scenes and understanding exactly what was going on, Garth once again proposed the idea of taking Gale under his wing as his apprentice, to which Lucien readily agreed much to the scholar's surprise. Had it not been for the intake of new "servants" Garth doubted that his companion would have been so quick to dismiss the young girl of her duties. It was almost as if he merely wanted to get her out of the conditions she was forced to live in, although, he would never willingly admit it.

She was free to go about her own accord, Lucien announced from over his shoulder to him late one evening within the study where yet another meeting of the minds was taking place, never taking his eyes from the tattered image of a spire upon the ancient text before him; not interested with the going-ons involving Gale. Garth listened intently for the words he so wished to be spoken, and was not unpleased by what he received.

-0-0-0-0-

Kivek paced hastily to and fro at the stairs leading down into the castle gardens, a distraught look plastered on his gaunt face and no pipe hanging from his drawn lips. Beneath the shadow of the awning above he thought of all the new servants Lucien had acquired, realising then that no woman would be in the castle after Gale's untimely departure, a thought that brought him no comfort. Something was not right, he deduced, a hand stroking the thin hair lining his chin. Why was it that his Lord had so suddenly taken an interest in acquiring so many male servants, and why did they not return with them… it was apparent that Garth knew of what was going on, but made no move to mention it to anyone. It wasn't making sense.

Wishing at that point that he could retrieve his beloved pipe from the silk lining of his vest he settled with constant pacing, practically wearing a hole away in the marble flooring, saddened a great deal at the thought of watching his friend, his would-be sister, leave for an amount of time unknown to him.

Suddenly, the ornate double doors of the castle creaked open slowly, the beautiful wood swelled with the humidity of the moist morning air, and Gale strode out, satchel hung across her chest and shoulders so that it sat at her hip. She came at a stop before Kivek and she looked up to meet his penetrating gaze.

A sigh crossed her parted lips, her eyes meeting his in a genuine smile. "I suppose this is it, then." She said at length, breaking the intolerable silence as well as the calculating stare Kivek had been sending her.

"Ayuh." He replied, pivoting his leg and averting his eyes elsewhere as they began to redden and swell. He realized then that Garth approached as well, standing beside the small girl ahead of him. The look across his face seemed lackluster, as usual, a total lack of interest, but Kivek knew beneath that constant mask of stoicism laid a mage happy to finally have an apprentice. A comforting thought, indeed, to the bashful butler.

Kivek bent low after he turned from them and retrieved something propped against the stone wall behind him, lurching back up with an increased weight with whatever it was he was now carrying. Gale giggled slightly as if to sate the growing sadness behind her friend's begging eyes and accepted the gift.

Taking it from him, she stumbled forward but managed to catch herself and stand tall once again, looking over the present in her outstretched hands with a curious eye. "Me lucky skillet." Kivek announced, drawing both the attentions of Garth and the girl to him. His eyes swelled more with an impending flood of tears but he held them at bay, even though the possibility of forever holding them back seemed futile in the long run, and stifled a small sniffle by feigning a rub to his irritated nose.

The skillet was tethered off on the backside of Gale's heavy satchel, heavier still with the added weight of the seemingly harmless kitchen utensil, and swayed to and fro with her readjusting to get it comfortable across her shoulder. "Thank you, Kivek." She said sweetly. Gale sauntered forward and encompassed the downtrodden and disheartened Kivek in her arms, nuzzling her face into his wide chest with a sigh.

No longer could he hold back the tide of tears, his chest hitching with a noticeable sadness as he, too, took Gale into his arms, tightening his powerful grip around her small shoulders. After a long, quiet moment in the gaze of Garth she began to pull away, finding herself struggling against the hold Kivek had around her.

"Kivek…" she said at length and pushed against his heaving chest gently, her voice calm and relaxed to sooth her upset friend. "Come on, you're being a blubbering baby."

It would have normally been taken as a horrible insult to the proud manservant but Kivek soon realized the truth of it and stood tall, relinquishing his hold and placing Gale at arm's length from him. Under his furrowed brow, he wiped away the unseen tears collecting in his eyes and in streams down his reddened cheeks, patting her on the shoulders reassuringly… if not more for himself than her.

The dirt path beneath Gale and Garth puffed up under their light steps, even the cobblestone hidden away in the dried earth proved no help against the constantly blowing breeze to keep them from slipping pushing in from the side streets the dirt that had collected over an amount of time. It was a rather quiet walk between the two after a night of unrest, thinking of the events that were to unfold that day, neither of them prodding the other with incessant questions they had no interest in answering at that particular moment.

Midmorning sunbeams warmed the dark, black colour of the beautifully adorned carriage awaiting the two travelers to escort them from the lavish streets of Bowerstone Market and out to the unknown countryside far along the borders of Bower Lake.

Evening set in with the slow descent of the sun on the western horizon far from Gale's line of sight, leaving her to wonder what exactly lay beyond the distant rolling hills and mountains she had yet to explore. She watched from inside the scenery pass by, just beyond her grasp, not realising that Garth noticed.

In the waning hours of the sun, on the brink of dusk, the glittering, orange coloured waters of Bower Lake greeted them to the left of the raised path leading through the rolling hills dotting every other space between thickets of trees and ancient stones. Gale remained awake up to that point in the journey even after having nary a wink of sleep in the last twenty four hours, Garth not being as lucky as she in managing to stay awake

Wanting to catch a better glimpse of the splendor of the lake in such a magnificent form Gale kicked away her bag she'd placed on the floor of the carriage many hours ago, wary of waking the slumbering Garth sitting across from her slumped in his seat, and scuttled her way up to the closed door set in the wall of the compartment. Night had nearly fallen on them, small flickers of light casting eerie but beautiful star-like flames in the darkness of the surrounding forest, a sight not appreciated from within the constricting confines of the carriage.

Seeing the problem, having had her face pressed up against the glass to try and see better but did nothing but smear a mark across the once clean surface, Gale slowly opened up the small door as if to avoid startling the rather shaky driver sitting high up on his perch and clambered up the side of the moving carriage. Ending up sitting atop its hardened roof whilst she gazed at the wonderment encompassing her, she poked the driver in the shoulder to simply tell him that she was up there and proceeded to be lost in her own world.

Small slivers of dying light streaked across the glass-like surface of the calm water, the small isle in the center of the lake standing alone and forgotten, to hold up against the unforgiving passage of time, covered in ivy and blooming flowers. Gale found herself having to make a double take at the small island after inspecting it for what felt like an eternity and a day, swearing that upon the ancient monument stood a cloaked, red figure. Sadly, upon looking back nothing stood but the rotting grass lying lazily against the stone walls of the structure and the sand shifting in the lapping waters of the lake… Nothing but a cold feeling of piercing eyes watching from a hidden place. Her loose, short bangs blew against her face, and she forced them away and rubbed at her tired eyes to try and focus better.

"Strange…" was all she could muster before casting her eyes in a different direction, looking out to where faint music could be heard and the laughter of many echoed through the vast hills and thick groves.

Gale was awakened later after having climbed back inside the carriage to a gentle nudging against her shoulder. Slightly bent over her due to the short ceiling of the carriage, Garth prodded her.

Bright beams of sunlight filtered through the dingy glass of the door, illuminating the compartment and reflecting off the hanging lantern, gem-like beams resting on the walls. "We've arrived." Was all Garth said before backing away and allowing Gale to sit up, wiping the sleep away from her burning eyes with a grumble under her breath.

The door creaked open and swung weakly away until it hit the side of the carriage, the gentle breeze blowing through the forest sending the attracting smells of flowers and trees into the air and against Gale, who stood at the lip of the doorway with her hand clasped firmly at the strap of her satchel. Prepared, she stepped down onto the single step beneath her, looking forward at the swaying of the great trees and tall grasses.

Upon lowering to the ground she'd overstepped, unceremoniously tripping forward and falling to the ground. A loud thud was heard upon the impact of Gale's satchel against the back of her head, her short coattails reeling up onto her back as though to add to her embarrassment.

Garth shook his head in stifled amusement and stepped out to join Gale, helping her up off the ground and to her feet again. She wiped the dust from the front of her belted coat and turned away from him to hide the creeping blush upon her cheeks, waiting until she heard him go off to the front of the carriage to tip the driver before trekking down the dirt path set out before them.

Rows upon rows of trees surrounded her on either side, casting cooling pools of shade against the dull intensity of the morning sun. Dew sat upon the tall blades of grass like shining beads of crystal catching the rays of the sun and showing a majestic beauty unseen within the stony walls of Bowerstone.

Gale's boots clicked against the worn surface of a short stone plinth planted in the dead center of a small clearing ahead of a black iron gate just down the dirt path, both covered with lush green vines of overgrown ivy that only added to their beauty; having run ahead of her master so that he was left behind at the top of the hill. She kicked off a few acorns that had collected on the plinth into the grass surrounding it, going so far as to pluck up a few and flick them in the general direction from which Garth was approaching.

"Are we to return to Bowerstone soon?" Gale asked, squatting and pulling on a blade of grass that had died at the tip and grown up and over the edge of the plinth, the dried portion coming off easily in her hand.

"Homesick already?" Garth replied curtly. He walked over to the iron gate and pulled forth a key from his waistcoat, pushing open the gate with minimal effort.

"No." she retorted defensively, teetering a bit from the weight of the skillet on her bag, and stood with her arms crossed over her chest. "I just figured that you and Lucien were still working together."

Garth cast a glance over his shoulder and briefly turned to her, "It was a joke, Gale. But yes, after you have acclimated to Brightwood we will return."

Gale spun on the plinth on her heel and came to a stop to face him again, making a small popping sound with her mouth. "Why don't you have a statue out here, Mater Garth? She inquired, pointing to the stone underneath her feet. With arms held up high flexing the small muscles she did have Gale poised heroically, emphasizing her point to the disinterested scholar. It was all in good fun, he understood, as he kicked away some of the collected underbrush where the gate had once stood, hiding a small grin with the turn of his head.

Gale hopped down from her perch, stumbling slightly yet again for the second time in less than fifteen minutes, and joined in a slow walk beside him after he bid her forward with a curt wave of his hand. Garth began to speak of the many things she was to learn while under his tutelage: alchemy, ancient texts and runes, the Old Kingdom, and many other things. Taking them to mind and still listening she set her bag down beside a small pond off to the side of the path, catching her master completely unawares with her sudden disappearance. Garth stopped and looked about for her, his brow furrowed in confusion and his face contorted.

The glowing green leaves hovering above her in the countless number of trees proved ample protection from her master's sight, the branch beneath Gale's feet groaning in protest even against her light weight. Leaping out from the shadows of the trees hanging above the path on which the pair made their way to the looming tower in the distance high up on the hill, Gale laughed triumphantly as though she'd achieved something great and landed with a splash into the pond just beside her master.

The splash rolled up and soaked the stalled Garth, making him go rigid like ice had slid down his spine. The glass surface of the water returned to normal a moment later with Gale's vanishing act, leaving the scholar to turn around and face the pond, his overcoat dripping with water and his books hanging at his side drenched. He wiped the water from his face with a handkerchief he'd pulled from his waistcoat and merely placed a scowl upon his lips, waiting patiently for his apprentice to reappear.

He should have known that she was up to something, he thought, looking down to Gale's satchel a few feet away from him dry as a desert and not far from where the splash zone ended.

Soon, a single lily pad rose from the water, a tangled crop of short ginger hair just under it, standing dimly like autumn leaves against the bright green of the water plant. A fish thrashed wildly in Gale's hands when she broke the surface, giving up and releasing it with a throw behind her. Rocks slipped beneath her feet with her desperate clamber to get back to land, sliding around under the water and kicking up the settled sand and such. Unfortunately, she slipped for what had to be the third time already that morning, and fell back into the murkiness of the swirling water with a shriek.

Garth soon forgot the scolding he was going to give her and watched Gale pop back up and spit the water from her mouth, managing her way back up onto the grass. Not for one second did he release the unrelenting scowl on his face, his arms crossed in a defiant gesture.

Covered from head to toe in slime Garth took a single step away from Gale out of simple safety, knowing for a fact that she was to get some of the fowl smelling muck on him, eyeing her now with a slight hint of sympathy in his one seen eye. "You do know you're to get a bath now, right?" he asked with a raised brow, knowing the question to be rhetorical.

Gale pouted quietly after, issuing a groan of displeasure and followed. Her bag slapped against her thigh and her boots squished noisily on the stone of the ascending steps, but none of that deterred her from the vision of the tower they were quickly approaching.

The great stone slabs of the outer walls towered like guards, cracked with age but still standing mightily against the imposing ferocity of the elements. The tower itself crested the sky, scraping at the passing clouds and heavenly blue.

Amazement crossed Gale's face at the sight of it.

This was her new home.

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**Next Chapter:**

**Gathering with an Old Friend**


	8. Garthering With an Old Friend

I do not own anything with the Fable universe, although I do own my characters Gale, Fortenbrasse, Kivek, and whoever else I happen to make up along the way

If you would like to see some of my art as well as the story elsewhere you can find me on DEVIANTART under the name ESUERC.

**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS – ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 8: GATHERING WITH AN OLD FRIEND**

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After the duties of taking a bath to rid herself of the scum covering her from her little swim in the pond earlier that morning, Gale ascended the steps to the second floor of the main tower donning her dried, but not too different apparel that she'd been wearing. She certainly had a knack for consistency when it came to her meager collection of clothes, it seemed. Dark, darker, and darkest was all it looked to be, a fine example of what someone from Bloodstone ought to wear when taking that particular lifestyle into consideration.

Another bed had been placed amongst the huddles of bookshelves and alchemical equipment just beside the landing of another stairway leading to the mysterious third floor. Garth had given her an explicit order not to traverse the tower any farther, for it held dangerous secrets he wished her not to experience, and many other things he told her he simply would not speak of. In the small amount of time Gale had during the bright hours of midday, she spent them leisurely lounged on her newly acquired bed, huddled over a new crop of books issued to her upon her arrival. One thousand or more pages a piece, three books total. Certainly a tough read, but she knew better and started upon them immediately without a moment's hesitation.

Ancient runes and texts, stories and folktales from years past, and legends of fabled heroes sprang to life from the yellowed, ancient pages of the leather bound books, a fanciful array of new discoveries behind every unturned page bringing to life Gale's imagination and sense of wonder. Once again, much like she had in Bowerstone, she became engrossed immediately with her studies. So much so that when Garth came up the creaking, aged stairs to announce that he had prepared something to he eat he found her heavily asleep atop a book laid out on her pillow, her finger still slightly propped up on the spot she'd last been reading.

She wasn't disappointing him, he mused, sliding the book out from under her hold and placing it amongst the others gathered at the side of her bed without so much as a sound to awaken her, laughing when he found that her other books lay open under the bed with little notes scrawled inside the pages.

Night descended rapidly on the duo's first day back and even hours later Garth found, much to his surprise, that Gale remained asleep during the entirety of the time he'd spent alone over his own studies. Her light, gentle breathing assured him that she was indeed asleep and he left once more down to the lower level of the tower, carefully blowing out the small candle he had lit earlier at her bedside should she wake.

Even the best laid plans worked, though, for the very second Garth vanished from the top of the stairs, his steps echoing up to her from the room below, Gale quietly crept from the comfort of her bed. It was certainly true that the forest was beautiful during the day, no doubt, but that was not what she wished so dearly to see. The darkness engulfing the once glowing emerald colour of the swaying trees, the stars twinkling like gems in the sky, and the occasional sound of an owl or other animal of the night were the things she wanted to experience firsthand in her new home.

Kivek's "lucky" pan proved to be a valuable asset, for Gale had not purchased a firearm in Bowerstone back when she had the chance. No matter, she simply strapped it to her side by the tethers of her belt wrapped about her gray, belted coat, and walked to the edge of the stone balcony jutting from the side of the tower on her floor. Looking down to the stone flooring far beneath her she reconsidered for a moment about her decision, wondering if it would be best to try and sneak past her master or to wait until the morning sun rose to venture out.

A long, spider-like vine of ivy firmly rooted in the work of the stone, running up the face of the tower, assisted her descent to the lower level as quietly as she was capable of; huddling against the wall in the secrecy of the shadows in case Garth had looked in the direction of the entranceway. Small pieces of stone fell away as she slowly made her way to the bottom, leaves snapping and drifting down with her at roughly the same rate, making her rather nervous.

From there on out, the rest of her adventure had been considered smooth, the paths clear of dangers such as Bandits and the occasional Hobbe, and the swaying trees full of nightlife that called out to the other nocturnal beasts echoing into the night. Just as Gale had imagined, the forest was much more alive at night, standing amongst the colossal forms of the ancient trees and taking it all in for what it was worth. Certainly, the night was beautiful.

A strange noise, almost the sound of scraping stone, echoed through the forest at the turn Gale took down a small dirt path leading to a quaint, waterlogged area. It cried out to her to gain her unwavering attention and draw her near, its booming voice sending ripples along the once calm surface of the shallow water now standing as a reflecting pool behind her. In the deep blue of the night sky, the pool looked to be but a continuation of the expanse, the sky fusing with the ruddy earth below.

Regardless, Gale stood before a large stone wall situated in front of the pool, hidden amongst a clump of surrounding trees that were beginning to grow overtop its surface.

Something stood altogether different about the stone wall, though, and prompted Gale to run her nimble fingers across the surface in search of something that so obviously had to be there.

Nothing.

Perplexed, she turned away to look at the water and listen in for the sound of the voice again, attuning herself to the sounds of the night.

"Certainly not getting my secrets, I can tell you. No matter how well of a face rub." It called out from behind her. She froze in her hunched position at the water's edge, her eyes widening as she turned to face the once flat wall behind her, surprised now to see the outline of a aged face protruding from the stone's surface. Its lifeless eyes scanned around nervously until they looked as though they landed on her, pupil-less, lifeless. "No secrets for you, I'm afraid, for I am going on leave, an early retirement, you might say." It reiterated, jutting its stony lower lip out.

"What kinds of secrets?" Gale asked, all of a sudden curious, walking nearer the wall.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" The stone door said, blinking quickly in frustration. "A Demon Door should not divulge its secrets to lesser kind. Unless…" The Demon Door paused, humming in contemplation of its next words, trying as hard as it might not to reveal one ounce of its secrets. Poor Gale stood ahead of the door with an eyebrow raised, exasperated and now at a pure loss for words.

"Cheese. Yes… I demand cheese." The door exclaimed, "And… um… Mutton Chops, yes, mutton chops, especially on the women folk." Gale's mouth dropped, truly speechless. Mutton chops and cheese didn't at all seem an attractive trade off to find what secrets lay beyond the door. 'Master Garth! Please take me to get mutton chops so that I may open a door I shouldn't have bothered with when I went out without your permission!' she imagined.

Another thought came to mind during the few seconds that Gale stood there. Why even bother at all with the door's ridiculous request when she could just as easily trot on down the path she had willingly intended on taking?

She did just that.

With a curt wave of her hand to silence the continued ramblings of the door Gale strode away, not once sending a second glance over her shoulder to see the spying glances the door was shooting her way, its eyes transfixed on her in its momentary silence.

A solitary flicker beamed out against the encroaching darkness like a beacon to a lost ship, beckoning any and all who were curious enough to question its suspicious behaviour. The light, its origin based inside the melted pit of a shortening candle, its wax spilling over the rounded edges of the copper plate it sat upon and onto the stained wood desk, flickered with the gentle breeze flowing through the open window of the one room home situated in a dense thicket of trees. By any standards, the home was ordinary enough, but to the young woman it posed as yet another installment in her nighttime, clandestine adventure.

Small, thin fingers tapped against the sill of the open window, half a face seen peeking over the edge and into the home of a man apparently by the name of Giles. Several candles sat on the desk against the wall, giving the illusion from the outside that a single one provided the tremendous beam of light that traveled out the window and covered part of the leaf-strewn ground in a box of orange light. Gale's eyes shimmered in the candles' embrace, focusing in on a hunched form writing on the desk in a small, tattered journal, weatherworn and bent with use.

Gale found herself ducking a moment later, though, as Giles tore his eyes away briefly from his work to look out the very window in which she spied in. Fearful, she scurried away from her crouched position against the front of the quaint home. Sadly, in her hurry, the sweep of her fingers across the sill caught hold of a small potted plant and knocked it from its perch. Shattered clay scattered about the room and riled Giles to stand, racing up to the window to his left and leaning out to spot whoever or whatever it was that had been watching him.

Leaves crunched noisily against her soft padded boots and caused her to slip an innumerable amount of times during her scuttle to put as much distance between herself and the irate man as possible. Whilst scampering, her head turned over her shoulder to watch for any movement behind her, she entered an area undergoing construction within the chipped away rock that must have once been part of a mighty hill spanning from Giles' home all the way to the roaring waterfall off to her side and down a steep ledge.

Caught unawares by a sudden impact, Gale fell onto her back disoriented, a flash of colours and lights swimming across her eyes like sparks of faerie dust floating through the air above her on a gentle breeze. The hazed and blurred lines slowly focused and sharpened, the lights disappearing into the stars above through the thick canopy over her, revealing a cloaked figure barely phased by Gale's pile drive into their chest.

They merely stood there, shoulders back and taut, their dark, intimidating eyes seen only through the menacing, sanguine cowl covering nearly the entirety of their forehead and cheeks, a black, leather suit of thin armour draped across their lithe figure crisscrossed with belts of all shapes and sizes. Seeing distress emanating off Gale, they took a single step back, but it proved not to help the predicament in the least.

Orange and yellow leaves once again nearly caused her to fall back but Gale managed to stand, and with one fluid motion unseen to the mysterious stranger she drew forth the iron pan wrought with age and use and struck them against the side of their head with a shriek of terror. The wallop brought the once seemingly powerful and intimidating man, now swaying to the side and teetering to and fro with a sudden lack of coordination, to his knees and face down into a clump of dried leaves and sticks beneath him.

A snap coming from the tether around her waist holding her reattached pan in place brought her back to the devastating reality of what she had just done. A laboured gasp escaped her and she dropped down to her knees to turn the man over, distraught by her unthinkable and unfathomable action to speak out an apology or try to coax the otherwise unconscious fellow to awaken. Dark brown and a sickly blue-green was the colour of the unsightly bruise appearing on the side of his face, a dull groan of agony escaping him when she readjusted his position on the ground.

"Damnit, I'm sorry!" Gale pleaded, gently slapping the uninjured side of his face. "Come on!" she whispered, still looking back every other second to peer at the house behind her.

Wanting to inspect the damage she inflicted on the poor, but mysterious man, she gently began to peel away the scarlet cowl. A final tug freed it and she dropped it beside her, her brown eyes going wide in shock.

"Fortenbrasse?" came her shrill squeak that could have been heard back at Giles' home, hastily stifling herself with a hand to her mouth. "Damnit…" Gale mumbled, cursing herself under breath for her rash move. It was blatantly obvious that the poor Fortenbrasse managed his way into the Guild of Assassins and joined their unruly ranks by the signature clothing that she recognized to be the same as that of the man's in the slums of Bowerstone. "Fortenbrasse!" she tried again and placed her hands on his broad, muscled chest to shake him.

Gale stroked his face gently in remorse and received a low moan in return as her hand glided across his bruise, "I'm sorry, big guy."

A voice booming through the forest silenced her for a brief moment and caused an involuntary shiver to run down her spine. "Who's out there?!" Giles questioned angrily, who was obviously reacting to the squeal that Gale used seconds before. "Damn bandits!" he swore. The sound of a door being kicked open in rage brought Gale back to her sense and spurred her to place Fortenbrasse upon her back. Struggling with his immense weight, even without his customary hammer adorning his back, Gale found it difficult, if not nearly impossible, to begin dragging his slumped body away into the dark security of the forest.

"You weigh a ton…" Gale mentioned to him, his face beside her head. She cringed at the pain burning within one of her legs, cursing through her gnashed teeth and biting away the growing agony. She managed finally, through her own suffering, to haul Fortenbrasse's limp body away from Giles' farmland into the dark woods, leaning him gently against a tree and collapsing on the ground beside him. But a second was taken to catch her breath before she ran down to the large stream running alongside the expansive forest, collecting the cool water within a waterskin attached to the belt on her hip.

Gale weaseled her way back up to him and sat down on one knee, opening up the waterskin and throwing its contents upon Fortenbrasse's face in the hopes that it would help him awaken.

No such luck.

Unsuccessful, small pebbles found their way into her gloved hand and were thrown against her friend's forehead, Gale now situated on the seat of her pants in front of him, her legs sprawled in front of her. "Get up." She demanded, annoyed that he hadn't once responded to the assault of pebbles against his bruised face. "Get up!" she tried more forcefully and dug out a rock hidden away in the dirt beneath her clenching hand, chucking it against his head.

Suddenly, a small flutter swept through Fortenbrasse's closed eyes, spurring small movements up and down his legs. "Finally…" Gale said, and relaxed with a relieved sigh. She sidled closer and inspected his head better, seeing how he hadn't fully awakened yet; not suspecting swift movements from the would-be assassin.

Moonlight reflected dangerously off the sleek, sharpened surface of the dagger held tightly against Gale's throat, her head craned back by a forceful grab through her short locks that brought her to look up at the sky momentarily. Instinctively, she wrapped her hands feverishly around Fortenbrasse's wrist and held him at bay when she felt the blade bite slightly into her skin.

Recognition shot through the assassin's narrowed eyes when he gazed upon Gale's face, his vile demeanor softening. "Squirt?" he inquired. The high tone of his questioning voice left nothing but the thought that he was utterly bewildered yet delightfully surprised. Gale nodded and swallowed hard nervously at his delayed recognition, letting out a gasp of relief as the blade slid cautiously away from her neck and her head was allowed to set straight.

Gale fell to her bottom in defeat, staring at Fortenbrasse with sympathy at the sight of him raising a gloved hand to his throbbing head, biting back the pain with a hiss through his cracked lips. "So you got into the society?" she had to ask him. She dabbed away at the thin line etched across the front of her throat, desperate to hide anything that would surely stir questions with Garth the next morning.

"Tha's wha' I said I be doin', didn' I?" Fortenbrasse scanned the forest encroaching him with a slight hint of malice in his eyes, growling lowly under his breath at the sounds of the night that still sent involuntary chills through him. "What're ye doin' out 'ere? I thought ye'd done gone to Bowerstone."

Gale told him of the time she spent out in the wondrous town, of the many delightful things she'd experienced during her stay with Kivek and the ever so mysterious Master Garth, to which he merely replied with:

"From one master to another with ye…"

She silenced him with a point to the mighty tower out on the distant horizon, and told him of her new studies as an apprentice to the powerful mage living within its stone walls.

"I'm sick of playing the maid." A gentle rustling of leaves sounded beneath Gale's unconsciously clenching hands, wrinkling and cracking much like the once calm visage she had. She was struggling to compose herself adequately, letting the past nag away at her with its dull intensity. A simple chuckle brought her back from her thoughts, bringing her gaze square up to meet Fortenbrasse dead in the eye.

"Leavin' tha' behind, are ye?" he laughed again and sheathed his dagger at the belt running across the taut leather stretching over his chest. "Tha's me girl."

Gale's smile gleamed, a sudden surge of happiness spreading across her features. "What are you doing out here, then? Out on this farm at this time of night?" His appearance in Brightwood wasn't strange in of itself, just the fact that he was out where she was exploring was a bit strange. A moment of awkward silence followed the rustle of leaves blown about carelessly through the thick brush and around about the large, sunken roots of the ancient trees.

Fortenbrasse raised his hand and pointed but a single finger away from them in another direction, aiming to whatever it was he wanted to explain. "I could ask ye the same thing. Jus' over yonder," he began, relaxing his arm at his side lazily with a thump heard against the soft ground, "be our base o' operations. I be sent 'ere to give the newest slug in the brother'ood his orders." Fortenbrasse's knees cracked loudly as he rose from the tree, using it as support against the dull throbbing at his senses. "Wha'dya hit me with?" he asked somberly.

Lifting up the pan at her hip she showed him the "weapon" that had so easily taken him down with a single swing, tapping it with a gloved finger to show the thickness of the casting and the weight it carried. "Ye could kill somebody with tha' thing!" came a moan from Fortenbrasse in mock surprise, his squinting eyes widening comically.

"That's why I brought the thing." Gale replied with a chortle. She looked up to the dismal but beautiful colours of the night sky again for any sign of the moon, receiving nothing but the faint glow of the hiding moon beneath the cover of the paper thin clouds. Her feet were set squarely on the leaf covered ground beside Fortenbrasse in a moment, her hair ruffled up by the rubbing of his large hand against the top of her head.

Their walk began back up the slope through Giles' farm and out onto more expansive and safe land, the trees thinning and the sky far more visible above them through the canopy that did remain. "Shut up!" Fortenbrasse found himself yelling out into the darkness, aiming at the deluded Demon Door continuing its ensuing rant about how Gale, or anyone for that matter, would not get his secrets.

The black barred gates leading up to Brightwood Tower rose before them not long after their walk began and Fortenbrasse found himself stopping short just near the stone plinth so conveniently placed in the center of the clearing. "The boys an' I done thought it 'aunted, we did." He whispered quietly, not exactly directed at anyone in particular. His brow furrowed slightly as Gale stood in front of him, looking back and forth between him, the gate, and the tower that was to be her destination. "Not me place, though." He patted her on the back in a friendly enough gesture but received more than he bargained for in return.

Gale leapt up and encompassed him the best she could possibly manage, reaching only to his collarbone while standing on the tips of her toes. A quick peck on the cheek put Fortenbrasse on defense, looking around the forest for any would-be watchers that would think him soft, members of the guild in particular, and returned the favour wholeheartedly.

A few seconds passed by slowly before Fortenbrasse brought himself to push the young girl away, clearing his throat and raising his chin high with his arms crossed tightly over his wide chest. "A'fore the other guys done notice." He told her in a hushed voice, giving her a wink to void any thoughts that he did not enjoy her show of tender friendship. "Go on!" he yelled in mock anger to dissuade anyone watching, brushing off his cloak with a sneer and a growl of disgust.

Gale quivered with fake fear to add to the effect, and to say the least, it was an amusing performance that both of them found themselves holding back snickers. Cowering back on her heels she blindly turned away and ran briskly with a grin etched deep in her face. She didn't bother taking a moment to steal a glance over her shoulder at Fortenbrasse, who only grew farther and farther away with each passing second, and continued her way up the slight incline of the dirt path leading up to the tower.

A faint glow loomed in the tower inside the inviting hearth placed inside the thick, stone wall, its light casting shadows about the room. Upon an antique chair placed conveniently before the warm, radiating embers of the dying fire sat Garth, seemingly asleep from his hunched posture and steady, rhythmic breathing. Gale took the advantage and made her way back to the ivy covered wall beside the entrance to the main tower, knowing she would be caught immediately by her master should she go romping in, boots caked with mud and leaves still stuck on her clothing, during the wee hours of the morn.

A contemplative glance crossed her face as Gale tugged at the vines, testing the rigidity of them. She had used them once before, but wondered if they still held the strength as they did earlier with having fallen from the side of the tower during her first descent. Hurriedly, though, and after testing the sturdiness of the vines in question buried within the weathered stone, Gale tried her best climb her way up back the way she'd come earlier that night.

The stone of the balcony of the second floor hung just above her out of arm's reach and with a few more feet she could manage to haul herself up, but a tug at her foot caught her suddenly off guard. It caught itself up in a wicked tangle of vines and leaves entwining themselves around her leg from her clamber skyward, forcing her to resort to tearing her foot from the wall to prevent any future delay.

Snapping sounds emitted from the torn vines as they slipped from the holes they used to grip in the wall, pieces of the foliage coming down all around her and falling to the ground below, the entirety of the vines letting go all at once. Gale gulped hard in regret and refused to look down below to the far drop beneath her, nearly twenty five feet, trying to untangle the mat of vines wrapped around her leg so that she may attempt to roll to cushion the rough impact when she came in contact with the unforgiving ground.

Not too often did Gale find herself screaming, but she could no longer suppress the urge from the jolt of her fall, plummeting with the vines following in suit behind her.

Before the ground made certain of Gale's untimely demise the vines gripped around her ankle went taut, jerking and swinging her until she came to a spinning stop hanging upside-down just a few feet from the stone floor. A few excruciatingly long moments passed while she spun, her eyes closed tight in fear that she was delusional and had actually broken her head open after the fall.

Disoriented but realising that she was still very much alive Gale opened her eyes, spying, not shy of a foot from her, the overturned figure of Garth waiting patiently in the doorway, his arms crossed and a brow raised in what could have been seen as confusion or amusement.

"I have to say," he began, a chuckle hidden beneath his stern, stone-like voice, "I didn't think you clumsy enough to fall from two balconies." Gale forced a sigh of relief and shook away the numbness collecting in her head, knowing that she definitely had been caught.

An orange light lit the rugged stone of the ground and the rough walls of the tower, illuminating the apprentice's reddening face before a small spit of fire escaped from the tips of Garth's fingers and shot through the tangle of vines with ease. At last, Gale was free and now sat as a heap upon the cold ground atop the collection of burnt vines, letting the numb feeling run from her head so that she may collect herself.

"What exactly were you doing out so late?" Garth had to ask, placing his hand on the belt circling over his coat. "The daytime seems a far safer venture, as far as I am concerned, wouldn't you agree?" He waited patiently for Gale's response, hearing only embarrassed stammers escape her lips as though she were thinking up an excuse. Knowing better than to lie to him and push her luck, she hung her head low in defeat, giving up.

"Just curious." Gale managed to admit, now able to move and pull the vines away from around her ankle. There was a silence between them that involved her rising to her feet and Garth merely standing there looking like he wished for a far better response than "just curious", followed by a nervous and forced laugh from the young girl that helped dispel any of the tension that remained.

Garth turned away once he was sure Gale would be fine on her own feet and entered the inviting glow of the tower's lower level, bringing himself to stand in the center of the room before the warm hearth and wait for her to join him.

Sore and aching, Gale held a hand to her throbbing shoulder from where she had landed on it, holding back a hiss through a stifled cringe that she forced to make look like a weak smile, and entered the tower. Her hair, dingy as its ginger colour was, looked slightly ghostly in the warm glow of the fire, clinging to her face from a nervous sweat that made its way over her pale skin.

"Should you decide to leave again without my knowing perhaps next time you should think of a different ruse other than overstuffed pillows beneath your sheets." Garth pointed out, looking at her from near the ascending staircase on the far right wall, "I don't quite remember you looking so portly. Or lumpy, for that matter." With a huff in annoyance Gale puffed out her cheeks, making Garth laugh at her reaction. "Now get to bed." He ordered, suddenly becoming stern and straight-faced. "I expect you to be studying, not playing."

Creaks, groans, and squeaks spoke out in protest from the nailed boards of the wooden stairs from Gale stepping on them to make it back to the security of her bed like instructed, but she was suddenly stopped by a rapping against the thick post running from the first floor up to the second. It was Garth, knocking upon the post to catch her shortening attention, "By the by, might I also ask where you got that mark on your neck from?"

Gale's face faltered and she bit her lip with a skip of her gaze off to the side where she had stopped. "Uh…" She threw her hand up to pull at the hood of her coat and slide it across the dried blood that marked the spot where Fortenbrasse sliced her earlier, unsure that it would actually help the situation.

Garth shook his head, catching the light from the fire against the lens of his eyepiece, setting it ablaze in a flash of arrange. "Well?" Came his witty reply, no hint of anger evident in his voice from the sight of his apprentice's nervous fidgeting.

As expected, she turned and stood tall, nearly a foot taller than him at that moment from her position on the stairs, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin in a defiant gesture. "A tree…" she tried, "Yes, a tree I named Fortenbrasse hit me on the way back here. Dark out, you see; hard to make out things." Gale smirked, growing comfortable with the easy familiarity between herself and Garth that allowed her to jest in such a way. "Really, it was."

Gale was turning out to be a breath of fresh air compared to the once lonely space held solely by Garth in the tower and the stretch of forest he called his home. The room grew quiet with nothing but the occasional popping and cracking of the burning wood in the hearth breaking the comfortable stillness. She disappeared upstairs and left Garth to his lonesome down below, still leaning against the post beside the banister. "Always one for excuses." He said to himself quietly, snorting with a small grin plastered across his worn face before prying himself away from where he stood to return to his nightly post in front of the roaring fire.

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**THE RARE, ENDANGERED ASSASSIN FLOWER**


	9. The Rare, Endangered Assassin Flower

Sorry about taking so long to put this up here, but I had a computer failure... so that sucked. Anyway, I would like to thank all those who reviewed. It makes me feel pretty awesome, you know?

I do not own Fable II or any of its characters. I do own, though, Gale, and any of the others that I happen to make up.

**FABLE II**

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**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 9: THE RARE, ENDANGERED ASSASSIN FLOWER**

--

Bubbles rose from the deep recesses of the glass beaker toward the wooden ceiling that served as the third floor awning, rolling up the sides and exploding into invisible balls of gas that could only be interpreted as dew sliding back down the surface of the curved inside. The flame beneath the beaker flickered, licking the bottom of the glass hungrily, and swayed with the occasional movements of the mage standing before it.

Gale watched from behind Garth far across the room from atop her comfortable bed the greenish liquid sloshing around in the beaker held in her master's practised hands, growing ever curious to what he had planned to do with such a concoction.

She didn't think it strange that he had his own unique apothecary within his tower. In fact, it was quite fitting that someone with his interests and stature have one within their home. Regardless, Gale slid her finger down the dingy, somewhat rank smelling pages of the gigantesque book she'd started on previous nights before until she landed upon where she stopped to ask Garth a question. Of course, she'd lost her train of thought completely when she became interested in whatever Garth was doing.

"Hey, Garth." Gale asked, holding her fingers directly above the word "Golems" written in boldface and capital letters on the page she'd been scanning. At that moment, Garth had become accustomed to the silence of the room, and jumped slightly at the sound of his apprentice's voice. This caused him to spill the contents of the two beakers he carried far too fast into a much larger one, the potion erupting and exploding with tremendous force directly into his face.

Gale remained silent as Garth turned to face her, turning on his heel and abruptly coming to a stop. Black with what looked to be soot, his face held a hint of annoyance, his visage conveying a small, almost unseen twitch running across his lips and the eyepiece hanging above his eye the only thing managing to remain rather clean, strangely enough, after his ordeal. "Yes?" he replied, his usually calm voice grating on the verge of anger.

The book that Gale had been reading now sat upon her knees so that it covered nearly the entirety of her face with the exception of her eyes, peering over the edge anxiously, hiding her embarrassed expression so that some of Garth's vexation remained on his features. "How… hard would it be to create a golem?" she inquired at length, her master straining to understand what she'd said through the muffle caused by her book.

Garth sighed and wiped his face clean with a handkerchief he'd pulled from the inside of his overcoat, pulling of his eyepiece momentarily to make sure he'd gotten it clean as well. The young girl didn't question the peculiarity of her master's eye, how it shone oddly and lacked colour as a normal one would. "If you don't mind the idea of grave robbing…" he stated bluntly, placing the dirtied handkerchief upon the desk on which he'd been making his now failed potion.

"Oh…" Gale issued as a reply and pulled the book down from her face, staring apologetically at him. "So I take it that it's a bad idea?"

The boards beneath Garth's steps creaked whilst he walked closer to Gale, the aged wood groaning a bit and causing small bots of collected dust to slide between the cracks to the first floor below. "I won't fiddle with barrows. Promise." Gale raised her hand in front of her face with her index and middle finger crossed over one another, her master looking at her strangely. But she merely laughed heartily and lowered her hand back down to her side, "Just joking, is all."

Gale's face suddenly contorted to one of confusion as Garth gently took the book from her hands and scanned over its contents, the section in golems in particular. "Aren't I supposed to call you something other than just "Garth" like I did back in Castle Fairfax?" she probed off-handedly, making him tear his eyes away from the forever-going paragraph that had caught their attention. "I mean, am I supposed to call you Garth, Mater Garth, sir-"

"Whatever it is that you find you're most comfortable with, Gale." Garth interrupted, placing the satin ribbon riddled with holes from moths that served as a bookmark down the fold between the pages before closing the book and handing it back to her.

"How about "master", then?" Gale finally said, smiling as she placed the heavy book back in her lap so that she may easily pick back up on it again. Seeing that part of their conversation was over Garth turned away and sauntered back over to his desk, planning to clean up his now dirtied workspace; rolling his eyes in amusement in a gesture that went unseen to Gale. "Have you ever made one?" she pried when he returned to work and she opened her book back up to return to her studies.

"I did not and do not meddle with the affairs of necromancy. I would also be highly unpleased if I ever were to find you doing so." Garth stated bluntly with an edge heard in his stern voice that wasn't there a minute before. He looked over his shoulder to send his point home but only met with Gale's curious gaze.

"Yes, Master."

--

A messenger, carrying the heavy weight of many an envelope upon his hunched back, arrived during the days following that night, found expectedly holding a letter within his outstretched, gnarled hand at the post before the barred, black-iron gates leading to the tower. Urgently, he left not a moment later after Gale took the letter graciously from him with a small token of gold for his services, speeding away without hesitation up the steep hill leading in the direction of Bowerlake.

The young girl questioned whether it would be best or not to open the wax sealed envelope bearing the crest of the Fairfax Family before returning to Garth with the announcement of its suspicious arrival. Gale found it hard to resist her child-like curiosity and pried open the seal with as much gentleness as she could possibly muster, pulling the lavishly written sheet out from its bindings so that it would not wrinkle.

Shortly after reading, Gale raced to the tower on the hill, clenching tightly in her hand, not out of anger but excitement, the letter that Lord Lucien had addressed to Garth regarding his assistance as soon as he could make it back to the castle in Bowerstone. "Master! Master!" she cried joyously, hoping to catch his attention before she made it up the stone stairs and across the breezeway to their quarters.

"Yes?" came his groggy answer, obviously not overjoyed with the fact that the shrill noise of Gale calling him woke him after a night of restless sleep. Gale thrust the letter into Garth's face with both hands, making him go slightly cross-eyed before he backed away and allowed his vision to focus clearly on the object she presented him. "Read the important things…" he asked of her upon noticing the amount of scrawled script running on and on to no uncertain end down the entirety of the slip.

Gale cleared her throat and scanned the letter once more, tapping her fingers in a bored fashion against the fine, thick, off white paper on which it had been written. "Lord Lucien requires your assistance again, Master. Says that it's urgent."

Garth nodded and shooed her away with a sigh under his breath, exasperated with the fact that such an unwanted announcement came about so early in the morning. All he managed out as Gale made her way about the room was, "We leave tomorrow morning at dawn. I expect you to be ready," Before collapsing back on the bed, tearing away from his apprentice as the tell-tale sign of "Leave me be."

Gale complied and placed the letter upon the stool sitting beside his bed before bounding noisily up the stairs, skipping every other step so that the next she took groaned loudly. Her master's irritated sigh could not be heard over the thudding of her boots and finally he found himself resorting to placing his pillow atop his head to drown it all out. It ended quickly enough, though, when she scampered back downstairs and out of the tower, a large rusting pail she'd scooped up from the apothecary swinging and creaking in her hand; its noise heard all the way down the second stairwell and into the distance.

"No mutton chops?" The Demon Door inquired angrily when he found Gale approaching, her appearance alarming and unnerving him, "And I don't even smell cheese on you!" He screamed, craning his head out and away from the stone wall in which he was carved to get a better look at her small form, "What is the meaning of this?"

The pail squeaked when she placed it upon the ground covered in strewn leaves and fallen branches infested with the many trails of hungry termites, "What's that look?" The Door protested, raising both his brows in surprise before furrowing them in frustration with a deepening scowl.

Gale placed on the ground a large, worn brush aged with a slight hint of black mold betwixt the many yellowed bristles running up and down its face, turning with the pail in hand to the shallow pool sitting in calm behind her in the beauty of the reddening trees. "What's that smirk?!" The Demon Door tried again while he futilely strained to see exactly what Gale was doing, having noticed the mischievous glance she sent his way over her shoulder.

She hauled the now heavy pail back over to him and placed it at the foot of the stone door, standing straight so that a loud pop sounded from her back. "And a good morning to you, too!" Gale answered at length as she dipped the bristled brush into the cool water residing within the pail. Straining, she rose onto her toes and began scrubbing away at the worn stone that served as the bridge of the Demon Door's nose, putting a great amount of effort into attempting to remove the collected amounts of moss and grime that had accumulated there over the years in the cracks, crevices, and creases of the moving stone.

"I thought you would enjoy a bath so early in the morn." Gale stated, stopping to place a hand on his twitching nose. An itch, she thought.

Could stones itch?

"No!" The Demon Door moaned in agony, shaking his head to try and ram Gale away from him, "You'll get soap in my eyes! Oh! What a foul sting—"

"There is no soap in here, silly door. And besides," Gale laughed quietly to herself, forcing to take on a serious look that brought his stone to a standstill, "You don't even feel it, do you?" She stood down and bent to dip the brush into the water again, stirring it round and round to watch the disgusting muck float away into a blackening cloud that chocked the once clean purity of the water.

"No! I don't want to be clean!" he protested for the umpteenth time, snapping at Gale with his wide maw until his teeth clicked together painfully. "I want cheese! I want cheddar! I want blue! I want—"

And so he continued for what felt like countless minutes naming off what could have possibly been every single cheese ever imagined or created by human hand all throughout Albion, going so far as to make it sound as though he was weeping bitterly when he found his tactics were not working.

High above Gale and the Demon Door, hidden away in the seclusion of the reddened trees, dangerous eyes were trained narrowly on her, scanning through a sanguine cowl wrapped tightly around their head. Their calm visage contorted, leaving nothing but a look of distaste that was soon replaced by one of neutrality. A flurry of red and orange dyed, cracking leaves floating mysteriously downward to the ground acted as an omen of the stranger's movements, having leapt out from their post above to land gently on the ground at the base of the tree with the grace of a cat.

The Demon Door grew deathly quiet as Gale cleaned away at his hardened mouth with the rough bristles of the worn brush, listening solely to the light, out of tune humming the young girl used as her entertainment. It startled the stone door to see the oncoming, ominously cloaked figure sauntering their way casually toward Gale, their hands placed behind their back as though wanting conversation. Hesitantly, hoping the girl would allow him, the Demon Door mumbled incoherently to her, warning of the approaching shadow before she found them far too close for comfort.

"Hush." She scolded him with the thought that he was merely using it as an excuse to talk. His mouth went slack, disappointed, but it snapped taut again when he realised it was Gale's prerogative not to believe him about imminent danger. The cloaked figure now stood behind her not even three feet away, placing a hand to their parted lips to clear their throat.

Gale jumped out of fright and knocked over the pail, strewing its liquid contents all about the already moist ground. She leaned heavily against the face of the stone door after having turned to face the unexpected noise, looking about, up and down, at the figure. "I told you he was coming." The door mumbled, knocking Gale forward a bit with the movement of his large mouth. But she shushed him with a look of contempt, hissing through her teeth.

"Greetings." The cloaked man announced whilst lifting a single gloved hand in a curt wave, tilting his head downward so that his eyes, as clear and blue as they were, stared out from under his cowl threateningly. "It has come to our attention that you know of Fortenbrasse, one of our associates."

Gale, wanting nothing more than to run back to the tower, settled with bending down and picking up the brush she had dropped out of fright, throwing it into the overturned pail so that she would not trip over it should she decide to make a run for it. "What of him, sir?" she dared to ask, trying as hard as she might to sound polite even in the face of trouble.

The man took a single step forward and eyed her venomously, shifting his weight so that he stood heavily onto one leg nearer to her, "Our dear Fortenbrasse must eliminate all ties." He declared and earned a stunned look from Gale. "All contacts must and will be eliminated. Hindrances, is all they are." The gleaming metal of a hidden cutlass pulled out from behind the man's back greeted her, shining dangerously in the small rays of concentrated sunlight coming through the gaps in the canopy of the trees.

A sharp ping of metal sounded around them as he thrust forward toward Gale, knocking painfully against the standing wall of the Demon Door, the assassin finding himself caught between a rock and hard place quite literally. Attempting to slice at her from the right his cutlass stopped abruptly, pinned between the Demon Door's snapping teeth biting down on the small sliver of weak, tarnished metal. Try as hard as he might the assassin could not pull from the door's clamped teeth his sword, futilely thrashing about and kicking up leaves at any means to return his most trusted of deadly weapons.

Seeing the chance to escape, Gale sped away, tripping up the incline covered in wet leaves and making her way blindly through the dense trees that now seemed to surround her at every turn. The path beneath her feet snaked dangerously to and fro, down deep dips coated with a fresh mask of mud that sent the escaping girl scuttling to maintain her balance and up steep hills that slowed her at every chance. The sound of crunching leaves and breaking twigs behind her was enough to spur her forward along the trail, signaling that the assassin had somehow managed his way out from the Demon Door's grasp.

No longer did he hold the deadly metal of a sword in his gloved hand but with closer inspection from over her shoulder Gale found him carrying, strapped upon his hip by a thick, leather holster, a jagged dagger that swayed with the swiftness of his gait.

Frozen on the spot with fear, Gale came to an immediate halt and understood the error of having run that way to escape the still pursuing assassin. Not only was a man, deadly and silent, following her, but she found, regardless whether they be as lethal or experienced with combat at her other foe, a group of bandits soundly sleeping within the seclusion of their tents surrounding her. In every direction she looked they were there, lounging tiredly on their mats and grass without so much as a clue of her appearance in their most private of camps.

Gale ran toward one of the single most trees standing in the clearing of the camp beside a roaring fire licking at the dried leaves and blackened stones surrounding it, the pit set beneath an unwatched kettle. She clasped tightly at the dried bark of the tree and tried her hardest despite the splinters threatening to slice through her leather gloves to clamber her way upwards before the assassin caught on to where she had planned to hide.

He was one step ahead, though, and leapt upon the wooden plank roofs of the bandit dwellings and launched himself into the trees after her, racing along the thin limbs with such grace in his lithe form that would have even left the conceited Reaver envious.

The assassin intercepted her almost immediately when she made her way to the higher branches of the tree, brandishing his deadly dagger between his thin and able fingers with skilled precision. A thick chunk of wood snapped from the trunk of the tree and fell to the ground from the impact of the sharpened steel against it, just barely missing the side of Gale's head and slicing the tiniest bit of hair from her short bangs. Gale trudged around the trunk of the tree with great difficulty, and all the while dodged every which way the swings, arcs, and jabs of the dagger at her fragile body, making it to the opposite side where it would be impossible for her to be struck dead on.

The limb under her feet groaned loudly, thin as it was, and issued forth a snap, but Gale paid no heed to it and understood that she could very well fall from the tree without much injury and manage an escape. She gasped, though, for in the brief second that she'd closed her eyes she found the assassin standing before her like the very angel of death, an aura of immense hatred weighing heavily on her shoulders.

"Very good, my dear." He growled lowly and pinned her against the rough bark of the tree with his dagger held to the exposed skin of her neck, biting at her with hunger. "But not good enough."

"Please!" Gale pleaded, pulling her head back against the trunk to avoid any suspicious injuries to her neck she would rather not explain to Garth. For a moment, a look of contemplation passed the once emotionless visage of the assassin but it disappeared in as quick a flash as he'd appeared before her, his nose crinkling up in disgust.

Another groan issued out beneath the soft padded boots of her would be killer, cracks running up and down the surface of the limb that brought the once resilient branch into a weak state, one that Gale found to be most helpful in her moment of need. With but a single push while the assassin was overcome with the worry of the limb cracking away under him, she shoved him out and away from her with her hands against his armoured chest. He stumbled back out onto the ever creaking branch that was soon to be his downfall, waving his hands wildly to regain his composure.

Gale couldn't help but give a curt wave, one that sent the assassin into a frenzy, and watched the branch collapse with his added weight. Down to the ground it went with a sickening crack sounding like splintering bone, echoing through the bandit campsite, the assassin falling from grace in its wake only to smash through the roof of one of the many tents.

The assassin disappeared momentarily in the silence that followed the falling of the limb into the tent, an assortment of shuffles heard inside that sounded as though there were a scuffle. Gale leaned heavily against the tree with a hand to her neck and checked gingerly the skin the blade rested against, letting out a sigh of relief when she found nothing out of the ordinary.

A blur of black and sanguine rushed from the tent and into the open air of the campsite only to find itself surrounded by a group of surly bandits, none of which looking pleased to be woken up so unexpectedly. The bandit the assassin had dealt with inside the tent moments before appeared at the ragged cloth hanging serving as a door, teeth barred and pistol drawn. Languidly, the assassin glared upwards at Gale with the gnashing of his teeth in silence before holstering his dagger at his hip and straightening himself, his gaze never once leaving her so high in the tree.

"So be it." He mouthed under his breath so that no soul near him could catch it, "You've not seen the last of me, my dear!" The assassin cried, angrily calling out to her so that the entirety of the waking camp heard him. Rusted blades, swords and daggers alike, stood at the ready, their dulled points aimed squarely at his throat and heart in an attempt to frighten him, half formed, nearly toothless grins sitting idly in the parched mouths of the bandits.

The assassin's last bellow shook Gale slightly but she knew it to be mostly show for the enjoyment of himself and for the frightening of the bandits, watching the killer sprint off between a break in a line of half awake thugs were forming. Gale placed her hands behind her against the tree and steadied herself with patient breaths, waiting for the moment when she could find her way back down and return to the safety of the tower. The last thing she needed at that moment was a barrage of bandits storming the tree like it was some kind of fortress and coming after her.

Thankfully, they gave chase after the escaping assassin into the dense woods surrounding their camp on all sides, many of them lazily trotting behind without a weapon to speak of on their persons. Leaves settled back onto the ground after the stampede of bandits cleared, laying strewn about the campfire and underneath the tree where the broken limb lay splayed across the destroyed tent, an old wagon carrying barrels of what had to be mead hitched into the air by the end of the limb sitting upon it. It would take them a long while to come to the realisation that they could not hope in their wildest dreams to catch up to the lithe assassin, and by then Gale would be long gone from the perilous deathtrap of a camp.

The rough bark of the tree splintered away as Gale slowly slid down the trunk to the ground, her boots crushing the leaves under her light step. Upon landing, she slipped and crashed onto the seat of her pants, leaves collecting on her gray overcoat and flying around her in a shower of fanciful earth colours that soon found themselves blending into the dull ginger of her hair.

Picking clean the leaves from her hair Gale stood and brushed away the majority clinging to her coat, following with a quick overview of herself and her surroundings before running to a small clearing at the back of the camp.

Beyond the collection of rocks creating a small alcove Gale found a black iron gate similar in both shape and design as the one at the main entrance to Garth's tower, the very structure seen rising out into the brightening sky through the thick bars of the gate. She pried it open as far as it would allow, for a chain wrought with obvious age but still retaining its strength hung around the bars as a locking mechanism to keep out the bandits that settled far too close to the inner grounds of the tower, and slipped inside. A statue crafted from mighty stone that looked as though it were pulled directly from the rock walls encompassing her stood at the edge of the small cliff that held a wondrous view of a bridge below, both of them covered in a thick, green moss that reacted to the touch and sprung back into place when left alone. Gale chose to ignore it for now and headed down the short decline in the direction of the large pond just at the base of the bridge, a gentle current pulling at the scattered rocks and reeds before disappearing beneath the bridge and down over a small waterfall where it joined a continuing stream that ran throughout Brightwood.

Every now and again Gale would spy back upon the gate at a sudden noise, sure that the bandits had returned and understood that it was not to them to whom the assassin was speaking but to her. She visibly relaxed at the landing of the stone bridge, though, and frolicked across it jovially, a skip to her step as the tower grew ever closer. Flowers danced and greeted her on the opposite side, their vivid colours like candy to the eyes as they swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze that rocked, too, the overgrown grass.

Gale found Garth spilling over a book in front of a growing fire that looked as though he'd just gotten it going, still wearing his night attire and lacking the eyepiece that was typically seen wrapped over his left eye. He gave her a quick wave and pulled out the letter she'd given him earlier addressed from Lucien, placing it upon his book to read over it through strained eyes. Gale, while in her quarters, grabbed a single book she'd been reading out from under her bed, many other texts piling up forever and on in a growing collection that Garth did not miss from his bookshelves, and scampered back downstairs past Garth and out to the flowery path she'd previously traveled.

A thick veil of fog settled over the pond, hovering a few feet off its placid, mirror-like surface, looking like someone had come by and ripped from its fastened hold in the sky a cloud and brought it down to earth to disperse. Gale wandered aimlessly with her tome tucked away under her arm until she settled on the grassy bank of the lake along an unmarked path leading away from the main trail, deciding to study to take her mind off the events that unfolded that morning and the ones that were to come with the next. That, and she knew she would have to retrieve her pail and bucket eventually from where the Demon Door stood guard.

As she sat upon the sloping knoll of the bank without a hint to the passage of time other than the sun slowly making its rounds across the sky she studied, absentmindedly kicking her feet under her crisscrossed legs and blowing quiet raspberries with her lips. She sat silent with her mind absorbed into her reading, thinking it abhorrent if anyone, if they happened to manage their way through either iron gate, would come and visit. Anyone other than Garth, she corrected, flipping yet another page on the large book that lay in her lap. After the events of the morning she neither wanted nor expected anything to happen, thinking that she could not be bothered so far inside the confines of the tower grounds.

Still, something, or someone in this case, had managed their way inside. Much like a pesky raccoon, they trotted from tree to tree down along the grassy path on the other bank far across the wide span of the pond, hidden away by the overgrown brush and stonework that lined the trail. They took into consideration the bridge, now posing as a threat to being seen if they were to cross. Bright eyes scanned across the stone walkway and along the hill on which Gale sat, stifling a small chortle of amusement that only they understood with a dark-gloved hand.

And so they went, crouching as low as their large frame would allow and hid behind the supporting walls of the bridge, beads of sweat rolling out from under the small red sash tied around their eyes in the heat of the morning sun against their ebony clothes.

Gale seemed not to notice the figure even with the amount of noise they created whilst they traversed the many paths to get to where she was, too caught up in her book and in the thought that she would be inclined to return to the Demon Door later on. Finally, they appeared at the base of the small dirt path and sidled their way along the crags in the small hill just behind their target, a grin of satisfaction spreading across their thin, chapped lips.

Darkness veiled Gale's eyes and she found a heavy, dead-weight upon her shoulders, slightly shocked that someone had found her. "Guess 'oo?" an all too familiar voice jested, their hands hanging her eyes to give the question its amusement factor.

Gale laughed with them, recognising the voice to whom it belonged. "Hello, Fortenbrasse." She greeted, giggling as he removed his hands. She turned to face him over her shoulder, giving her friend a grin when she saw him stroking the small tuft of hair beneath his lip that only reminded her of the dastardly Reaver. Fortenbrasse shared a similar smile, one full of exuberant energy, and gently too from her the book in her lap after having wriggled around to her side.

"Wha'cha readin' there, squirt?" he asked. Fortenbrasse held the book most incorrectly before him. Not only was it held upside-down, but he suspended it in the air by its covers that the worn spine cracked lowly. A small glower was shot at him from Gale at how her precious book was being handled and he took the initiative to spread it across his lap much like she had, still trying to read its contents. With unquestioning confusion he scratched the side of his head in thought and stared at the book with narrowed eyes, looking as though he didn't comprehend what was written.

"It's about potions… I would like to know how to make them, but it's harder than what Master makes it look." Gale replied, laughing once more at the sight of Fortenbrasse sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in frustration, his finger scanning much too fast down the page for him to be reading it. "I can't wait to read up on the workings of the ancient Cullis Gates…"

"Can' read a damn word o' it." Fortenbrasse passed the book back to her with a sneer aimed that the piece of literature. He must not have been taught to read, Gale thought bitterly, but saw it cute that he still tried to do so to seem interested in what she was learning. "Don' see a point."

The wet grass coated with a thick layer of fresh dew parted under Fortenbrasse while he lowered himself onto his back, yawning loudly with a wide stretch that caused his bones to pop.

"You know," Gale started slowly as she watched him readjust the red band running across his eyes, "One of the men from your guild tried to kill me this morning."

A bright eye greeted her from beneath the wannabe assassin's thin cowl, the other remaining closed with a smirk. "Bah!" he declared, "Don' mean nothin', squirt! Tha' it don'! They jus' be playin', is all."

Rolling her eyes Gale slammed her book shut and placed it upon Fortenbrasse's stomach roughly, making him jerk up a bit as a consequence. "So that means it does mean something, then? Double negative." She slapped his chest playfully with her gloved hand and looked down at him with a dismissive shake of her head. Too many times before she had dealt with incorrect grammar but when it came to Fortenbrasse it had an amusing quality about it, as though he wouldn't sound right if he were to talk in any other fashion. He growled in return deep down in his throat, the rumbles traveling down his chest to where her hands lay. "I'm just playing, I know what you meant."

From atop the hill underneath the cooling shade of a large tree standing dead center at tree paths, serving as a natural fork, Garth scanned about in search of his apprentice, his hand resting leisurely on the hilt of a small, jeweled dagger hanging over his tailcoat. "Gale?" he cried hoarsely, his voice echoing down to the rippling banks where she and Fortenbrasse were located. It was a pity that he could not see her from his perch above, Gale noted, thinking maybe his vision was worse for wear than what she'd originally thought. Or maybe it was the sun reflecting off the lake's smooth surface that threw a glint in his eye.

"Uh-oh." Fortenbrasse looked to Gale when he felt the weight lift from his chest and stomach, raising a brow as he, too, pushed himself off the ground to get a better view of whatever it was that caught her attention. Gale threw the book on the ground with a shrug and latched her hand around her friend's sash that was wrapped untidily around his neck, pulling him to his feet against his will. "Hide!" she gasped, shaking him as he placed a large hand on her thin wrist to calm her.

Fortenbrasse looked over to the tall grass and stared back at Gale with inquisitive eyes, "Where, an' why? Wha's wrong, squirt?"

"In the water!" With a mighty yell under everything she could muster up the young girl hauled Fortenbrasse forward, pulling him past her and chucking him into the pond. The large splash that followed in his wake dyed her muddied boots a deep brown that matched the wet soil sloshing along the shifting edges of the water. The water calmed quickly, save for the ripples spreading far and wide to the recesses of the pond, and soon Fortenbrasse was nowhere to be seen or heard. Only small bubbles remained, popping at the surface of the water, and moved toward a small patch of reeds not far from where Gale was standing.

Garth found Gale sitting on the wet grass at the base of the hill and greeted her, not expecting much of a reply with her reading her book so adamantly. "Who were you talking with, Gale?" he had to ask after joining her at her side, watching her read with a nonchalant nod of her head. A small drumming came from her fingers against the pages of the opened book, signifying a nervous twitch that not even she was aware of. "Well?"

Huffing and noncommittally placing her hand as a reference point in the book she peered up, "The flowers." She lied, feeling guilt descend on her for having done so. "I thought they would like to know what kind of ingredients go into a health restorative potion so they don't worry about being picked." The last part was played off more as a joke, but as a silent moment passed Gale wondered whether or not her master took it seriously. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat and continued to pretend to read, her eyes darting back and forth from the book to the growing amount of bubbles finding their way to the water's surface, a sign that something was hiding in the murk.

Magically enhanced, Garth let fly a single sword into the water and waited patiently for whatever was there to spring up from its hiding. In an eruption of water, breaking like glass into the air, Fortenbrasse sprang up, howling in pain over the glowing short sword squaring itself into his buttocks. Reeling painfully, he forced himself to grope blindly at his behind until he felt the surging and pulsating energy of the sword sticking from his right cheek, pulling it out with a whine that sounded more like the whimper of a small dog.

"Flowers, hm?" Garth inquired flatly, his eyes trained on the threat standing idly in the water fiddling with the magical sword in his hands. Its energy dispersed and forced the would be assassin to gaze up to whoever had cast it at him with a growl and the raise of his upper lip.

"Mm-hmm. The rare, endangered assassin flower, to be exact." Gale joked again and grinned lopsidedly at her friend's opened mouth expression. "It's hard to find one so nice in these parts, and you go and try to kill it, Master." She began to laugh lightly but forced herself to stop at Garth's stern, calculative stare.

Taking its leave from resting on the dagger, Garth's hand joined the other in a collection of a more powerful spell, crackling sounds emanating from between them as he calmly concentrated on Gale's friend. The light grew more intense and arced from fingertip to fingertip, glowing blue with increased energy and power. "Master, no!" Gale pleaded, leaping up in from of Garth just shy of the dangerous bolts of electricity, Fortenbrasse curling with anticipation of the painful attack.

Fortenbrasse raised his arms to rest on his head as a meager defense, shaking and squirming in the water as he realised it conducted electricity quite well. "He's my friend…" Gale defended, her heart racing, beating like a drum in her chest. She could feel the surge of energy die away at Garth's stare until nothing more than his raised hands remained, until they as well lowered down to his sides. Having dismissed his initial attack at the threat he swore would harm his apprentice the mage pivoted his leg and met Fortenbrasse's eyes with great intensity, the nervously laughing man looking no more than a fool just over Gale's shoulder.

"Not much of an assassin, is he?" Garth prodded, holding in a chuckle at the sopping wet excuse for a killer as he stepped forth from the water. Gale relaxed and turned away from her master to help her friend back into the grass, dragging him by the wrist through the mud.

"'E's gettin' on me nerves." Fortenbrasse growled and allowed Gale to reach up and adjust his mask and hair so that they were sitting right once more, her motherly affection the only thing keeping him at bay from approaching the other much more finely dressed man. He wrung out his black shirt and bent down to pull off his boots to drain the water from them. A fire of growing hatred burned in the their eyes, transfixed on one another; the assassin and the mage paying no heed to the young girl stuck in the middle.

Situated at last and anticipating any fast moves on Garth's part Fortenbrasse placed his gloved hand on a hidden dagger sitting idly on the left side of his ribs just under his arm, an intimidating, guttural growl rising in his taut throat. Gale could only sigh at the tensing air of animosity around her, groaning and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

A bolt of lightning snapped against the grass at Fortenbrasse's feet and spurred him into an unusual jump, Garth having cast the energy without so much as a change in his stoic expression that was even more intimidating than anything the measly assassin could pull off. In fear for his life, Fortenbrasse stumbled away, tripping every few feet, and dashed up the hill so he gained the higher ground on them; still dodging Garth's lightning bolts with clumsy dexterity. "Later, squirt!" he called before disappearing, yelping as one bolt split away from the rest and hit him dead on the dagger wound in his buttocks.

Gale squirmed under her master's scrutinizing eyes, avoiding his gaze cautiously in the hope that it would deter some of his anger elsewhere. "Have you been studying, or were you too busy romping around?" She cringed at the annoyance in his voice and shrunk back to collect her fallen book from the ground, thankfully not wet from the water Fortenbrasse slung around.

"Yes, sir." Gale said ruefully at length and bowed her head in defeat. Shaking his head, the braids of his hair hitting the nape of his neck playfully under the curled collar of his overcoat, Garth bid her to follow close behind, collecting himself. Gale would have to learn, he mused, that in order to learn the things he was to teach her, some things must be sacrificed in return.

Whether it guaranteed her happiness, or not.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**CHAPTER 10: THE DOLL IN THE SANGUINE CLOAK**

**I hope you guys can figure this one out. :)  
**


	10. The Doll in the Sanguine Cloak

Thanks to all those that have reviewed this. I know that it's been a long time since I've gotten this up here, but I tend to get it on Deviant art before putting it here.

I do not own Fable, as it belongs to Lionhead studios, but I do own Gale, and any other OCs that happen to appear. I'm going to try to get these up sooner than what I did this one.

**FIENDISH WINDS**

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**ESUERC VOLTIMAND**

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**CHAPTER 10: THE DOLL IN THE SANGUINE CLOAK**

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Upon the moment of arrival to the blossoming grounds of Castle Fairfax Gale lurched forward, caught up into a tight embrace by none other than that of the playful Kivek. Obviously, with as much endearment as the manservant was willing to show in front of Garth and Gale, he displayed his ecstatic feelings about seeing the young girl again. Her breath hitched in his ear as it was stolen from her lungs in the tight hug he'd wrapped around her ribs, managing to pat him on the back comfortingly to try and coax him into releasing his mighty hold.

The reunited do moved through the courtyard leisurely as Garth and Lucien disappeared inside of the castle, the ever watchful and most scrutinizing eyes of Jeeves bearing down on them from the open double doors hidden away in the main alcove. They deduced, seeing the sneer that Lucien was trying all his hardest to hide from Gale, that he wasn't at all pleased to be seeing her so soon. Or again, for that matter. Even when he and Garth made their way back to the study in the farthest reaches of the castle in the solitary tower did he relish in the fact that the young woman returned with the scholar. He would have much preferred that she'd stayed back in Brightwood.

That was something Garth would not allow, though, after he'd caught Gale the day before conversing with a would-be assassin from the Society.

Clouds floated aimlessly through the light blue sky as thin wisps that appeared to be created by nothing more than the constant puffing of Kivek's pipe, trying and failing futilely to block out the intense rays of the midday sun that bore down on all of Bowerstone. A heap of gray hung over Gale's right shoulder, her discarded overcoat, and added a hint of relief against the oncoming heat. Kivek, on the other hand, was quite accustomed it seemed and settled with simply unlacing the top three holes of his work shirt. Both of them, savoring in the fact that they were in each other's company again, but understanding that their time was limited, went about explaining what happened during Gale's absence.

The story of Fortenbrasse, one that caused Kivek's feathers to rile up slightly due to unknown reasons, was a topic of interest, as well as what Gale was learning while under Garth's tutelage. She'd noticed how he'd acted when she mentioned the close friendship that had developed between her and the assassin, how he snorted vainly at her description of him, to which he simply replied "Sounds like a Nancy boy to me." Apparently, Kivek wasn't taking kindly to the fact that Gale was associating with another man nearly the same age, if not older, than he.

Gale merely scoffed at him and his unpleasant tendencies and followed him to the tree they'd sat under the first time they met, readily taking the same seats as before. Hours passed sitting beneath the tree sharing stories and experiences, what was to happen when Gale was to learn more advanced things involving the mysticism Garth practised, what Kivek planned to do in his spare time in the castle now with all the new servants running about the place in a mad frenzy to do whatever was possible to ensure that they remained there, and what Lucien had been up to since the lack of Garth's presence.

Little did Kivek and Gale know, just beneath the calm, a storm was brewing within the tower in Lucien's study. If one were to come and find themselves standing in the light of the burning torches before the study's door they would hear, faintly at first, the beginning of a fierce argument.

Gale and Kivek walked happily underneath the faint glow of the dimly burning torches upon the wall and made their way slowly down the long expanse of hallway leading to Lucien's study, where they would collect Garth and perhaps be on their way back to Brightwood or to the Cow and Corset to stay for another day. Instead, far from what was expected- quiet talking and silent study in the room- the two were faced with a forceful exchange of irate voices beyond the thick wood of the chamber door. Kivek halted in his tracks at the violent exchange taking place just inside and placed a hand comfortingly upon the nervously fidgeting Gale's shoulder, her brow furrowed in displeasure and unease with the volume of her master's voice.

"That's a mighty squabble they're havin'." Kivek spoke, mainly to himself, still leaving his hand lingering on the young girl's shoulder. She sidled closer to him into the embrace of his arm and clung slightly to his opened vest, nervousness and fear registering in her dark, calculating eyes that now opened wide to scan the doorway.

She quivered frightfully as the doors came flying open suddenly, slamming against either wall behind it with a great amount of force. Out stormed Garth with an uncharacteristic glare etched across his normally placid face, the room behind him now visible for the two to see. In a quick movement, Gale pushed away from Kivek and stood before her approaching Master, questioning what the matter was.

"We're leaving." Garth declared upon seeing her in his path, not taking notice of Kivek now off to the side surveying the scene around him in curious interest. Less than gingerly, Garth snatched Gale by her hood as he passed by and dragged her along behind him. Stumbling along and concentrating on keeping her foothold on the plush carpet she looked back to her friend growing farther and farther away. All she managed was a wave and a quiet goodbye before disappearing over the top of the set of stairs, not able to see Kivek wave back shortly.

With a lopsided grin, Kivek turned his gaze to Lucien standing now in the doorway. Eerie, dark eyes settled upon the fleeing pair from the study's entrance, the events from inside the room leaving a tension in the air that was almost palpable.

"Master, what happened?" Gale forced herself to ask once they were out in the castle gardens, sure that it was an appropriate enough time to prod with the unwanted question. It stung like one thousand sharp daggers to think of what had just unfolded between him and Lucien, a heat building up in his chest at the realisation that his academic partner had a hidden agenda.

Regarding Gale's question, Garth let out a deep sigh and ran a hand down his face in mounting anger that looked as though it had been reborn tenfold. He still dragged her along, now by the arm, down the path leading to the market, refusing to answer her.

A silent hour passed without so much as a reply to Gale's question, and during that time she separated herself from her master's hold to allow him to think and calm his self down. Whatever occurred in Lord Lucien's study truly and utterly shook Garth to his core, his aged and learned eyes normally calm like a gentle sea, stormed with the fires of the void and beyond. The muscles in his cheeks were taut in a lingering scowl looking forever etched into his features, giving Gale the impression that he was still very much annoyed.

It made her heart ache to see her master so distraught and know the fact that she could do nothing to try and console him, that he would surely ignore or refuse her further attempts at every turn.

In the shadow of the outer wall of Bowerstone stood the dark forms of the carriages lining against the worn stonework, the neighing and kicking of the horses heard in the nearby stalls hidden away from passerby as to help calm them. Garth shielded himself from the evening light dying away with the setting sun in the distance by bringing himself to stand on the small platform beside the carriage office, conversing with the driver on the rates to make it back to Brightwood. It seemed that he wanted to get back in the shortest amount of time possible with the least amount of money spent.

This was amusing to his apprentice, who had calmed him as much she could as they approached the marketplace so that he would not take a sharp, berating tone with anyone, for she had to laugh at the fact that she didn't think Garth a penny-pincher.

Gale, at this point in time, wandered away from her master to let him handle business better with the carriage driver and so that she could take an eye at the shops she doubted she would being seeing much of again unless she were to come out that way by herself… under the permission of her master, of course… seeing that she still had much studying to catch up on.

Small bows sparkling wonderfully like elegant diamonds shone and glimmered against the stretching light of the sun out towards the main gate, reds and blues, gold and silver, blacks and whites dancing in an organised fashion across a wooden table serving as a gift shop. Sitting beside an assortment of handcrafted dolls, ranging from a ragdoll of the poorest quality to the most posh and expensive, glass faced, rosy cheeked baby doll, the bows honestly looked to be wonderful accessories. The faux gold trimmings and designs, stylised after the largely crafted gears clanking and gyrating in the face of the clock tower just behind Gale, were a marvel to behold seeing that they were on the small, fake guns designed for small boys and girls to play with.

Gifts lay strewn before Gale to examine and purchase, whatever kept her entertained, Garth told himself while taking a quick moment to check on her so far away from him at the gifts booth near to the Cow and Corset. She had only but a few gold pieces to spare from the small amount that he'd given her as an allowance- he had no intention on spoiling her merely because she was his apprentice.

Precious, glittering gems for the discerning woman obsessed with such useless, materialistic possessions sat alongside the children's toys should any husband or one-to-be try to woo the "lady" in interest. Gale tapped at her lips with her fingers in thought and rocked back and forth on her heels trying to decide if she wanted to buy a doll or try to save her money and get a real weapon. Much to her dismay, Garth was trying his hardest to keep her from resorting immediately to such barbarian-like ways, and instead focused on the use or words and hints of magic that may otherwise sway someone.

Seeing no other options, Gale remained at the table and scanned all the many "valuable" trinkets, doodads, and whatchamacallits. She brushed her short, ginger hair from her face and lowered her gaze for a brief second to one of the more ragged ragdolls. It was rather adorable for its rugged appearance, looking like a welcome relief against the brightly coloured and more aesthetically pleasing dolls sitting beside it.

"A must have, miss." An older woman standing beside the booth interjected when she saw Gale eyeing her merchandise with obvious interest. She waved her white, gloved hand over the assortment of dolls and knick-knacks and smiled, the makeup spread across her face cracking at the hidden wrinkles displayed with the measure. Gale's mouth hung open at the display but she shook the thought away that she would surely end up looking like that if she were not to take care of herself, bringing her line of vision back to the table.

The ragged ragdoll that she spied moments before caught her eye once more. Strangely enough, it now sat at the edge of the wooden table, its small hands hanging down through the pieces of thin planks, looking as though it were caught in the middle of a perilous escape by the eyes of Gale that froze it in place like the gaze of Medusa. Teetering off the counter with the taste of freedom lingering on its non-existent lips the sanguine cloak in which the doll was encompassed clung to an upturned nail pushed through the plank it sat upon, keeping it from falling off the edge of the counter.

This, Gale deduced, was the single thing keeping the doll from falling to the ground, not the clasping of the doll's petite hands grasping at the plank with all its might.

"What of this one?" The ginger-haired apprentice asked, reaching over more finely made items to grab hold of the doll garbed in the mask and red cloak, taking it to hold it up to the eyes of the woman running the booth. "What about this one" Gale inquired again when she saw the shop keeper's confused face, inspecting the doll in her hands that sat a little less than a foot tall, "How much is he?"

"Oh!" The merchant exclaimed with an overdramatic raise of her gloved hand to her heaving bosom, which at the moment was nearly falling out of her finely made dress somewhat like a prostitute in training, "You wouldn't want that one!" Her heavily made-up face faltered and she leaned forward to look more closely at the doll in Gale's hands. "Why not a lovely porcelain baby doll? Or this Ragdoll, perhaps? Sure to please!"

Try as she might to sway the young girl from buying the tattered doll, to which she had no recollection of having when she sat up the shop earlier that morning, she was unable.

Gale smiled warmly at the doll, a laugh playing on her lips, "I like this one…" she started, stroking the small smears of dirt splattered on the dingy cloth of the embroidered mask, "He's… different."

A sale was a sale and the woman was not one to pass up such an ample opportunity to rid herself of the mysterious doll, clasping her hands together to say that it was finalised with a weak, fake smile plastered on her ruby lips. "If that's what you wish, miss." She groaned unconsciously, "That'll be three gold coins, please."

Gale dug around in her coin purse, seeing as how it had been stolen not too long ago and found with not an ounce of her earnings left inside, and produced the correct amount, handing it off to the woman without ever tearing her dull, brown eyes away from the unique find in her gloved hands.

"That's a weird one." The woman whispered under her breath as Gale turned and went on her merry way back to her master, who looked like he'd managed to negotiate a deal for a carriage.

Sleek buttons stitched into the worn fabric of the doll's mask shone slightly against the lantern light of the freshly lit lanterns scattered about the square, the small, gold trinket pinning the doll's cloak together basking in the faint glow of the light. "Should we get something for master, too?" Gale asked the doll in her hands, finally laughing at herself for thinking that it would answer. "Maybe a flower?"

Its button eyes shone in a strange, amusing sort of way, causing Gale to smile when its head leaned to the side like it had chosen to ignore her. "You're right… he'd probably sit on it, or make me do a project on how to create potions from flowers.

You're a little dirty." She whispered to herself when she crossed the bridge over to where Garth was waiting patiently for her return. "That'll be a fine thing to do when we get back, won't it? Getting a bath?" Gale fiddled with the doll until she held it by each of its arms and had it hovering in front of her, its overly long cloak billowing behind it like the cape of a hero.

Like an explosion on feathers after a pillow fight, the small birds lining the bridge cleared away under the light steps of the young girl and her newly purchased doll, flying out and over the square and to the rolling hills beyond the stone walls coated green with lush grass and trees. A twitch, like a small vibration, coursing through Gale's hands caught her attention, seemingly coming from the doll. But she refused to think on it and gently placed the doll within her satchel at her side for safe keeping, irked by the aura that radiated off the doll and into her… a feeling of dread that made the stomach churn and the heart ache.

Normally, with what would come from Gale's rampant run toward Garth one would think her planning to ram him, but she stopped and stood still at his side, obedient and steady in her pose. Garth passed along the customary payment for travel, not succeeding in getting a better offer off the driver in the end, and stared down at his young apprentice with trained, wearied eyes. An unblinking stare was all he received in return and a slight tilt of the head that told him she, too, was prepared to leave Bowerstone behind them. Weakly, he placed a hand on her shoulder and ushered her over to where the driver stood waiting for them.

The carriage teetered a bit with the added weight of the three and groaned and squeaked as was normal when moved about, its door hanging open with a much unreadable and most definitely inconsolable Garth standing in its frame. In the direction of the castle they'd left behind rather unceremoniously did he send the most rueful and distasteful scowl he could muster, his lips thinning into a fine line and curling under a growl rumbling low in his throat.

The door shook violently when it was slammed in a sudden fit behind the Will user, the glass shaking against the wood holding it in place and the lock clicking so loudly that Gale could have sworn it had broken. Across from her on the seat opposite of her own her master did sit, retiring with a grunt of grim dissatisfaction. Confrontation was not something Gale trained herself to be entirely used to, her escape from Bloodstone a fine example. Sure, in the past, back to the days she'd rather not recall, she'd seen Reaver take out many a man seeking confrontation with him, and every time it would leave a feeling lingering in her chest more horrid than the last.

The illuminated lamp hanging not too high above them from the low ceiling swayed in the lurching movements that marked the beginning of their long ride back to Brightwood. To and fro it went and drew Gale's eyes to it like a moth to the flame, trapped, mesmerised by its mystic beauty. Inside the satchel at her side Gale's hands rummaged, noisily groping for her newly acquired possession. She brushed the doll off with a smooth stroke of her hand when she at last came across it, and had to smile.

"So that's what you were doing, then?" Garth asked, muttering a word after a long, drawn-out silence hovering between the two. Curiously, he raised a brow and skeptically took in the sanguine garbed doll's appearance, "Not a gift from your friend, I take it?"

"No." Gale replied curtly and stared down at the doll now placed in her lap as though it were sitting, "I bought him when you were getting the carriage." She gazed up for a moment to catch her master's reaction, but his face was stoic like she remembered it always being. "Handsome little thing, isn't he?"

This prompted a short cringe from Garth at the dirty bundle in his apprentice's hands. "I have to think of a name for him, though, wouldn't you think?"

"I think you're a bit old for a doll, Gale?" Garth scolded without meaning to do so, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"You're never too old to act like a child every once in a while, master. Perhaps you should give it a try every blue moon or so." Gale said, amused with herself.

"I have neither the time nor the patience for such frivolous things." He interjected hastily as he began to unbuckle the strap of his eyepiece. He placed it at his side on the seat and took his head in his hands from what had to be a growing headache, sighing under his breath whilst rubbing at his temples. Gale took the hint that Garth had much to think about and grew quiet, going about adjusting the doll's lengthy cloak that had become coiled around it like a blood red snake. She swore that the doll reacted to her touch, a twitch rippling through its small body.

Within the hour, Gale found her eyes growing heavy and her body stiff and leaned back against the lined wall of the carriage, placing her doll-with-no-name-as-of-yet-but-will-probably-be-named-Edgar in the crook of her neck, where it remained as she shut her eyes. Before sleep claimed hold of her, another movement just against the skin of her neck had her believing herself mad.

Something strange this doll was.

**-0-0-0-0-**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**CHAPTER 11:**

**PINT-SIZED MALICIOUSNESS**


	11. Pint Sized Maliciousness

**I want to thank all those that reviewed and asked for me to update this story. I sincerely apoligise for not having done it sooner, but I have been busy as of late. I hope to get some more of this out sooner than what I did with this... sorry, again, about that.**

I do not own anything at all related to Fable II, seeing that the rights belong to Lionhead Studios. I do, however, own Gale, Fortenbrasse, and Kivek, and anyone else I happen to make up as I go along. I know you guys are the bright types and will figure it all out in the end.

**I found the song **_Downstream_ **from the **_Braid_** soundtrack (the game for both the 360 and steam on the computer) especially enjoyable to listen to whilst I typed this up. ****You can find it on youtube, and I would suggest you listen to it whilst you read. Of course, if you're much like me you won't bother.**

**000  
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Fable II: Fiendish Winds

Chapter 11: Pint-Sized Maliciousness

000

It wasn't at all hard for Gale to acclimate to Brightwood Tower once more, surprised by the fact that she became far more enthralled by its beauty than she'd initially been when she first arrived there. The lost relations with Lord Lucien only added to her time spent in the tower, away from the countryside that rolled in hills of green and flowers of all colours and sizes, away from the brick town stationed along a winding river that ran through the fields like a jagged scar out to the open sea. A strange sort of excommunication was all she could classify the notion as; for Garth brought it upon himself to sever any and all ties he'd once possessed with the Lord of Bowerstone, and isolate them both in the leafy sanctuary encompassing the tower they called home.

Heavily dismayed and disheartened, Gale could do nothing to console the dull ache in her heart from the thought of never again seeing Kivek, or at the very least, for a long while. Still, she found a rare happiness with the doll she'd come across before their final departure only a few days ago, its company during her long nights spent alone in isolation in her warm bed atop the creaking planks of the second floor aiding the pain, slowly but surely.

Nonetheless, things continued quite normally once Garth returned to his usual schedule of silent work in the apothecary and practicing, sometimes attempting to create his own, magic out in the quiet hush of the forests where he could not be bothered, leaving Gale to her studies that she promised time and time again she would catch up on. She did as she was told, very much the good apprentice, and spent countless hours against the rain-worn stone of the second floor balcony's railing, a book on her knees and her doll-with-no-name upon her lap against her stomach, and read and read, and continued to read until she was eventually spent and found later in the evening by the returning mage to be asleep in the most awkward and uncomfortable of positions. It was a reoccurring scene those past few days whilst the tension that had been caused by Lucien's outburst against the Will User slowly ebbed away into something unrecognizable.

The selection of books handed down to her not long after her initial start to studying the Ancient Kingdom dwindled away until not a single one remained unread, leaving nothing by another stack of equally word laden collections towering beside her small bed in many huddled stacks of different sizes, colours, and conditions that made her little corner of the tower look like an impenetrable fortress of literature.

Sitting atop the stool situated before the cleaned apothecary late one evening, long after Garth retired downstairs to sit in front of the fire and read as was customary, Gale toiled tirelessly over a rather interesting passage labeling the intricacies of the Ancient Archon's vast power system. Her back hunched and her eyes crossed in sheer determination of studying the fascinating past of the Old Kingdom, Gale left behind the unnamed doll to sit at the base of her flattened pillow, which hadn't felt the weight of her heavy head in days from her constantly waking to find she'd dozed off again in places that, to any normal person, would be unorthodox. She hadn't spied back to check at the candle sitting near her bed, for she would have noticed the unusual disappearance of the Sanguine heap left to sit against her pillow.

A small "plop", like the sound of a light sack of flour falling over against the floor, sounded out on the balcony. Some object lay in a bundle on the stone floor just beyond the iron barred gate, motionless as if dead or perhaps never living to begin with, and slowly gained the attention of the young girl within the room. Outside, laying in the cool moonlight and gleam of the brightly lit jewels of the night sky did Gale spot the heap sitting on a crack between the crooked stones, the long blood red cape wrapped about it fluttering in the summer night breeze. Candlelight from inside flooded out but never found its way onto the unknown object now at Gale's feet, her shadow shrouding it so that it was almost impossible to discern what exactly it was in the darkness.

"My doll?" she whispered to herself almost silently, unsure whether she should trust the most unusual occurrence of having her doll appear on the balcony when it should have been on the bed where she had placed it prior to her study. Nudging the doll ever so slightly with her index finger it issued a low moan; the soft fabric of its stomach caving in beneath Gale's probing touch.

Gale stuttered and teetered back onto her heels in awe, dumfounded and cross on whether it was from her lack of sleep that she did imagine the moan escaping from inside the cotton filled recesses of the small doll. Her knees popped loudly as she bent low to gaze upon the miniscule figure once again, getting a closer look at the ragged fabric of the doll's oversized cloak. "Poor thing. I'm sorry little guy." She apoligised, but caught herself after uttering such ridiculousness to an inanimate object, placing a slap against her forehead futilely and truly blaming her strange tendencies on sleep deprivation.

The white mask, dingy still even after numerous washes, scraped across the cold stone upon being lifted into Gale's pale, ungloved hands, her delicate fingers tracing the fine patterns stitched in gold thread across its features. It remained shrouded by a deep hood, rooted away in secretive darkness that only enhanced the obscure beauty of the meager item. Her finger reached forward and dared to prod at the slightly protruding belly of the doll, the fabric crumpling and wrinkling to a minor degree… But still, another groan froze her blood, frozen like Bower Lake during the harshest winters, a chill running up and down her spine like rampant mice through a cupboard.

"A doll… a doll should not make noise like this." Gale whimpered and furrowed her brow in growing confusion and anxiety. "What is this, really?" The question was but a simple one that could be answered with an equally simple explanation. Obviously, the doll possessed a true, child-like appearance of a toy, but underneath the tattered cloth rags and intricate mask lay a threat far more sinister than Gale could ever possibly imagine.

Slowly, the stark brightness of the moon faded away to nothing but a faint glow behind the thickening, shrouding clouds meandering through the night sky aimlessly like leaves upon an autumn stream, leaving the balcony in a deepened darkness. The doll, in a blur of sanguine colour flashing like the wave of a red flag at a bull, allowed its cape to flutter gently to the ground behind it, having leapt from her outstretched hands to land gracefully in an almost silent squeak at the edge of the balcony. Awed and amazed, Gale gasped and blinked and wiped the tiredness from her burning eyes, disbelieving what she had seen to be but a foul trick of the exhausted mind. The doll turned slowly to her, whisking its cape behind it in an elegant fashion, the hood pulled low over its face in a makeshift cowl. Menacingly and courageously, the doll stepped forth into Gale's space and closed the short distance between them with a few squeaking strides of its short legs.

Curious by such animation of an otherwise inanimate doll, Gale leaned down to sit face to face with the halted ragdoll standing just at her knee. "What are you?" she questioned once more, her eyes scanning over every small detail of the little doll's form, putting it to memory should anything happen.

A soft cloth hand, no larger than a cork for a bottle of whiskey, gangly and no different from the rest of its arm in shape, seeing that it possessed no fingers to speak of, struck her across the cheek in a purposeful slap. Sideways her head went from surprise, not so much from pain that had yet to register, for there wasn't much to being with.

"Not 'what'! 'Who'!" The doll exclaimed wildly in a fit of throwing its arms back behind it. The deep, demonic rasping of its voice that did not match the stature of its small body led Gale to believe that the doll was in fact male… perhaps. All the same, she did not expect such a demanding voice, so cold and calculative, from such an odd source and fell square from her heels onto the seat of her pants. The doll frantically clambered up her leg and clung to the loose fabric of her nightshirt by the collar, standing atop her chest and staring intently with upmost seriousness into her eyes with his won that looked to be nothing more than small, narrowed rubies at the moment.

If some other person were to come at that time and spy upon Gale and the doll in a battle of stares, they would think themselves as mad as she, the doll with the upper hand by sitting atop her so that she stopped low to the ground. "_Who_ are _you_, child?" he inquired, the cloth around his eyes furrowing in newfound curiosity for the young girl beneath him, frozen at his whim. Gale turned her head slightly and gave him an unreadable look that caused him to utter a growl that rocked her.

"It's n-not polite to ask for a name before giving your own." Gale stammered and raised her chin in defiance, narrowing her penetrating gaze in an attempt to shake off the unpleasant stare that weighed down on her.

Grabbing the doll squarely about his midsection, with a touch ever so tender, Gale took him off her, try as he might to resist with a futile grip held on her collar. This was somewhat easy with the doll's lack of fingers with which to hold, leaving Gale amused when he took a dour look and crossed his arms over his chest in child-like protest against her unreasonable actions. "Three words…" was all the doll muttered under his breath, which left her with a riddle she was to solve on her own. Reluctantly, Gale sighed and agreed with a curt nod of her head to play his game, pondering if he was to give her clues to get her started.

"Give me an idea, or a hint, or something to help. At the very least." Gale lowered the doll gently to the ground until he just barely touched, released him, and proceeded to watch as he began a methodical pace in front of her. One hand raised to his chin and the other hidden behind his back under his flowing cape of scarlet he walked to and fro, this way and that at her feet to somehow come up with a way for the young girl to understand.

"Another word, perhaps, for sword." He allowed, and waved his thin arm in a circular motion to mimic what could have been a fencing move, but it was wasted on Gale; his theatrics did nothing to aid her in answering in the least.

"Stiletto?" Gale asked after a long pause of silence that was like nails across a blackboard to the impatient doll. Infuriated by such a ridiculous comment, he leapt upon her, the soft, algid surface of his off-white mask pushed against the tip of her nose. Gale sat cross-eyed, her mouth left ajar by such a sudden pounce on her person.

"Foolish child!" the doll bade angrily and forced his petite hands upon her flushing cheeks, "Think not so shallow! Your thoughts clouded!" Out of any thought or statement with which to retort, Gale fell onto her back with a gasp of pure shock, the doll once again taking the opportune chance to stand easily on her collarbone without worry of slipping.

"Uh… a blade?" Gale tried again. A hotness burned away at her eyes as thought she would faint, but she simply blinked away the feeling and shook her head. The doll back away out of her direct line of sight and stood atop her stomach, and allowed her momentary relief to sit up should she prefer.

"Good." He cooed, "Now then, a card, ranked below the Queen." Obviously, he fancied himself a ridiculous riddle none other than he would find in the least bit amusing, one to rile the mind. But to Gale, his antics were problematic and overdone, a stress she refused to deal with. Surely, he could simply tell her his name and be done with the prolonged awkwardness of standing atop her like some palace guard, his body taut and his head thrown back, but that would take from the enjoyment he was receiving at her expense. To keep herself up, Gale placed her arms under her flat against the floor and nervously tilted her head to one side.

"Nine of clubs?" she pondered aloud in more a cocky tone than she meant, her cheek rested against her bony shoulder. Another hit, this time square in the centre of her forehead, jolted her, much of its intensity lost when the doll's hand struck against her short bangs. "Is it something in the spades family?" Another slap, similar to the one that preceded it, hit her face, and finally enough became enough.

A loud squeak echoed out from the doll as he rolled off Gale and landed roughly on the seat of his britches, his hood falling out behind his shoulders. "Enough!" Gale cried, gnashing her teeth and clenching her fists against the rough stone that dug at her knuckles. "Stop hitting me!"

The doll stood quickly to avoid the movement of one of Gale's bare feet, and brushed himself off with a silenced huff of resentment, and proceeded to fix his fallen hood so that the cloth sat atop his head and crowned his forehead in mysterious shadow. "Below the queen… Fine. A Jack? Is that what you were looking for?" An obvious smirk spread wide across the doll's features at the mention of the answer he so desperately sought, creases appearing in the cloth wrapped about his eyes.

"Put them together." He ordered slyly, and brought his two hands to touch in front of his chest like a demonstration should Gale not understand an order so simplistic.

"If you hit me again…" came Gale's true warning, and allowed the doll to think up a most fitting punishment of his own. But he only chortled, chided by the girl's attempt at a threat, weak as it was, and found it highly amusing. "A Blade named Jack?" she inquired sarcastically, earning a growl from the disgruntled, once jovial, doll.

A bright ball of swirling embers burning away in hues of red, orange, and yellow emanated from the tip of the doll's outstretched hand, swinging his cloak out behind him dramatically and spitting it at her in a blinding flash that struck the sleeve of her nightshirt. Without a word, Gale stood, casting a shadow that shrouded the insignificant figure of the doll on the stone floor and walked back to where she'd been reading not long ago; patting the fire out on her sleeve with her hand.

"What is it that you are doing?" The doll tried. Watching Gale snap close the book she read so diligently and hoist it into her arms brought no welcome relief, for the doll now understood the implications, whether he liked them or otherwise, of what was to happen. "No! Wait, stop!" he shrieked in genuine terror when she stood before him like the angel of death, and shrouded his head with his arms in a feeble motion of defense that would do nothing to aid him. The book fell from her hands and rocketed downwards, finally ending with a sharp thud on the ground just where the frightened doll had been standing moments before.

"Now, let's try this again." Gale said gently and took up the book from the floor, which had been left at an angle protruding upwards from the covered body beneath the leather-bound pages. A broken doll lay in a heap on the floor, stuffing coming out every which way, willy-nilly, through snapped seams and old moth holes that were not spotted before then. Calmly, Gale scooped up the doll and held it, earning a moan of protest from the small being lying limp like a dying animal or swooning woman in her small hands. "Jack…" she tried, stirring a move from one of the doll's legs, "Jack…_of_ Blades, then…" She tested the name on her tongue silently, and stroked the injured doll's head lovingly.

To avoid tearing him apart more and rendering new damage indiscernible from old, Gale forced herself to step fluidly over to the far wall where her bed lay, the head of "Jack" bobbing up and down with each step as it hung over the edge of her cupped hands. A soft, comforting plush now resided beneath the doll after Gale set him down upon her pillow, and turned away to search for an item of interest back in the apothecary.

Twisted and torn threads hung limply like small tentacles from the newly created holes dotting Jack's fragile surface, standing out like blood red veins having been removed from the body against the dinged white of his aged stuffing. "I'm going to have to sew you back up…" he heard Gale say to him in remorse across the short span of the room. Glistening knives and gleaming bottles clean of any alchemical ingredients cluttered all the spaces once free within the cabinets and drawers, not a thimble, needle, or spool of thread in sight.

Jack forced himself to sit up with great difficulty against the sinking of the pillow like some sort of quicksand under him, quickly coming to the realization that the left side of his body was far lighter than the right. Spying down to where his arm would be located, he saw nothing but the pale green of Gale's pillowcase. The secret of his missing arm was immediately solved when Jack turned on his bottom and spotted his removed appendage on the pillow where he'd laid. "Degrading." He whispered, none too happy. The sounds of clanging pots and jostling glass equipment echoed through the room in Gale's search for the necessary equipment to fix Jack's little "problem", unwise in noticing it could attract her Master's attention downstairs.

"So your name _is_ Jack, then, yes?" Gale asked, popping her head out from behind one of the hutches holding an old, but very large needle in her hand, still in search for the other needed items. The doll did not dignify her question with an answer, or even an acknowledgement that he had heard her, but she knew all too well that she was correct in her assumption.

Jack bounced into the air by only a few short inches ten minutes later after Gale's search for thread was complete and she plopped onto her bed with a hop, skip, and a jump across the wooden planks of the floor. "Who would I be if I was not?" Jack finally answered and handed her his detached arm with a "humph". No pain was felt as the large needle stuck into his shoulder, not even the slithering of the thread through his body left a shiver in its wake, and Jack sat there in silence whilst Gale patched him up with as much expertise as she could muster.

"Can't say I've heard of you." Gale began, her face softened with each passing move of the needle in her fingers, in contrast to the threatening glare thrown at her from the doll that now sat patiently at her side. "Although, the way you dress, now that I think on it, looks familiar to an old story I've read about an ancient warrior that was said to be the scourge of the Old Kingdom."

"T'would seem the children no longer learn much of the past, do they?" Jack inquired more to himself than to Gale, a rumble rising in his throat like a low, guttural growl whilst she moved him about to get him into a better position.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed by with slight hints of conversation between the doll and the young girl, much of their talk to do with Gale's involvement with ancient studies and her mentor, who she informed Jack was only one floor below, meaning the ragdoll would have to learn to be far quieter in the future. But he insisted relentlessly on gaining knowledge about the scholar so near to them and eventually coaxed Gale, rather easily, to escort him to where they could spy upon her Master should he still be awake. Save for the awkwardness, she replaced her coat and set Jack comfortably within the soft hammock-like hood resting betwixt her shoulders, and slowly crept her way over to the stairs descending to the main floor below.

A fire dying away, burning dark oranges and reds as it entered the throes of death, its embers radiating a dim glow into the room so that mischievous shadows played against the wall of the staircase, sat before the chair where Garth was normally to be found. Instead, he stood at the fireside and poked steadily into the fading embers to rekindle the flames with a black, iron-wrought poker. Gale stood on the steps watching the spectacle and allowed Jack to clamber his way up onto her shoulder, his hands knotted in the fabric of her coat, and placed his head just beneath her ear should she decide to mention a word to him.

The fabric of his sanguine cowl rubbed against the side of her face, soft like cotton but thin with the ravages of time; some of the fire's light dancing deviously in his narrowed, red eyes so that they shown like lines of fresh blood in stark contrast of the pearl colour of his mask. Suspicious, yet curious, Jack eyed for a moment longer the young girl's Master and immediately questioned the credibility that he was merely her "master", and hid a small chortle beneath his breath as a rather amusing thought crossed his mind. It forever went unnoticed, though, and Gale wandered up the steps at the first sign of Garth retreating from the fire to be off to bed, disappearing behind the stone wall of the staircase she ascended.

"Reminds me of a mage I had once known." Jack mused once the two were back upstairs in the security of Gale's quarters, his head tilted to the side to think back on some distant memory long forgotten over the many ages left in his doll state, or purposely buried away in the deepest reaches of his mind. A curtain of ginger hair draped over the doll as he went to stand fully upon Gale's shoulder, and he was quick to slap it away as though it were poison ivy threatening to overtake him, uncoiling his arm from around it much to the girl's dismay of her hair tangling up. The anger within him was beginning to boil anew, but it soon subsided once he found himself free and leaning against Gale's head, bobbing about while Gale situated herself on the stool she'd been sitting on earlier.

"So what are you, exactly?" Gale asked and allowed Jack to leap from her shoulder onto the counter of the apothecary without assistance. "I know you're in a doll, but what is it that makes you live?"

Jack turned to her with an amused look about his cloth mask, the fabric around his eyes curving and folding in a rather adorable expression that Gale couldn't help but stifle a giggle over. "A traveling soul, you might say. My child, I am more ancient than one could possibly imagine." The reflection in the beaker he bored into cast an image of him, bloated and puffed like a water-logged corpse against the normal, lithe form he prided himself in. "This form," he motioned downward with a wave of his arms, "Temporary as it may be, has been in my possession for over five hundred years. Even I am astonished that I have not withered away and claimed by the unforgiving hand of time." The light shining on Jack's eyes shifted to indicate his gaze now rested on Gale once again, half seen beneath his low hood. "I long for a new one, to put it bluntly… or in terms I have no doubt someone of your standards could understand."

Gale's brown orbs rolled in her head and a sigh brushed shortly past her parted lips in a gesture than would assume annoyance, but she merely meant the expression as a gag that would entice the doll into a small squabble or round of nitpicking. Small, black dots like enlarged periods littered the counter of the hutch in a trail leading behind Jack in a serpentine fashion, smeared by his dragged cape. An odd sort of treasure map it came to look like, from his constant turns and crosses from walking over a pad of ink that he didn't quite notice sitting in front of the glass cabinet. He pulled his hands out from behind his back and pushed them against the front of his shirt, and continued his strut across the wooden top positioned in front of Gale. "Heroes…" he began solemnly, and placed a hand just above where his heart would have been should he have one, "back when they were common, brought me no trouble… with the exception of one."

Jack slammed the pad of his foot against the wood beneath him with great ferocity and conviction, showing willingly his anger and irritation over the rather touchy subject, "That wretched hero and his damnable bloodline caused me nothing but great dismay." With both hands, he rested them lightly against the cool cloth of his mask so that they barely touched, hovering. "My mask," Jack hissed, "Cast into the fires of Archon's Shrine, it was; he'd thought he vanquished me once and for all. Cleansed the land of Albion of the threat of Jack of Blades."

His shoulders began to shake and his knees buckled in a laugh that grew mightier and more sinister by each second, "Little did the little hero know was that I planned for such an event. Why would I," gingerly, calmed now, he brought a hand to rest on his chest once more, the other hidden away in his cloak that was dyed a dim black at its frayed edges, "ever fall victim to an act so expected? And that is why I now reside in this miniscule, ludicrous form. For having placed a single fragment of my spirit within this doll, this host, waiting ever so patiently for the day to arrive where I could regain my lost, unbridled strength, and once more hold power beyond your wildest imagination, I can grasp this world in my hands and declare it my own." Gale's eyes widened, which invited a laugh to bellow from the recesses of Jack's throat, "No longer the Kingdom of the Court… my kingdom, and mine alone."

Nearing her, Jack brought himself atop the book sitting just in front of Gale and looked up beyond the edge of his cowl in a menacing glare, tempting the young girl to say something that would demean his story. "I _will_ take back what is rightfully mine…" he forced, and shoved one of his hands into her face, "… this kingdom, all its inhabitants, and a renewed body."

Gale's face blanched into an unreadable expression, her eyebrows raised high and her mouth sunk low like someone had taken hold of her head and stretched it in two entirely different directions. Skeptical of how she perceived him, Jack grew dangerously quiet and narrowed his eyes to peer up in a way to understand her look. "You doubt me, girl?" he inquired in a low sneer that rang deep.

Gale piped up, suddenly quite interested, and neared the doll already close at her face, "The name's Gale, first off. And yes, I do doubt you." Like a vice, her finger wrapped around the thin fabric of his withered cape, tangling him in it and knotting the cloth so that he would not slip, and pulled him wistfully into the air like a puppet. "You're saying you're going to take over the whole of Albion when you can't even make a half-decent fireball?" To make a point, Gale removed her coat and brought up the portion of her shirt he'd struck earlier with his magical projectile. Jack merely exchanged glances with her and the small scorch he'd created as though allowing her words to sink in.

Jack was hoisted farther into the air, hovering over the floor by nearly four feet, when Gale stood from her seat, and wobbled, swayed, and gyrated uncontrollably with each of her steps neared to her bed. There was only silence as he hit her pillow unceremoniously, no squeak, no grunt, not a sound, just an intense glare radiating from him. Obviously, her words struck true in him and he was left with despair and the desperate thoughts that his only chance was the young girl if he was ever to achieve his goals.

Pleasantries aside, Gale sat beside him with another book inscribed with pressed runes and faded inks, written on the spine in gold "The Old Kingdom", which didn't leave Jack surprised. Perhaps, she hadn't heard much of him; who was to know what was left from the pages of a text for the populace. "So, Jack." She began, and opened the book over her crossed legs on her bed, her back arched and her feet tucked under her legs, "Let's read up on you, then."

A lone candle, its light dim and flickering without a breeze, stood in the darkness on her bed, supported by a small, iron plate so that it would not teeter. The sanguine dye of Jack's cloak faded to black in the shadows that grew around them, and the mysterious darkness of his hood grew infinite. "That is false." He pointed out, stopping Gale's finger with his foot from shimming down the rest of the page she'd been reading, having watched from his post on her thigh.

"And here I would have thought you would have liked to have been a gargoyle at one point." Gale mocked. Ever so slightly, she adjusted her leg and made Jack fall, rather dramatically, onto her lap. "Relax…' A few soft pats to his head made him go rigid, his body curling like a dying insect or beast frightened of light, inching away from her pale hand and climbing onto the book. The pages flew up beneath his hands, scouring for any information he deemed accurate, but not finding much but a few mentions here or there. More and more steady he banished the pages to the left side of the book, the pile of remaining pages growing shorter with each passing turn. At last, a stark, bare, browned back cover greeted him like a swift slap to the face. "I take it, you didn't find much?" Gale asked without the fear of the outburst she was sure would come.

Inevitably, much like she predicted and by the slight quivering of Jack's shoulders, he spun on Gale, his hands balled tight and the cloth rounding his eyes taut. He went to say a remark in regards to what she said, but dismissed his ire and grew limp, falling face first against Gale's stomach in a small lump of scarlet.

"Gale." Came a voice from the staircase, seemingly from a candle that floated in the encroaching darkness that originated from the lower level. She spun her head swiftly toward the noise and grew relaxed when she realised it had only been Garth. "Who are you conversing with?" Her master inquired, his eyes scanning incredulously around the room in search for any trespasser that was mixing words with his apprentice so late in the night.

His dark eyes landed on the doll leaning against Gale's stomach in a slump, the mysterious ball of rags that had irked him from the moment they'd returned with it from Bowerstone. "T-To my doll." Gale replied with the knowledge that her words sounded like the greatest of lies. Garth dismissed the notion immediately, the belief that someone was in fact in the room with her fresh in his thoughts. He blinked in disbelief; his mouth spread wide with a twitch of his lips, and took the final step into her corner of the tower. "What?" she pried, his strange behaviour beyond what she could comprehend.

"The last time you were supposedly talking to something inanimate, a fellow was actually there… remember?" Garth retorted, his eyes still in a slow roam around her room in search for movement, faint movements to be exact. Wax dripped down the candle he held in a bronze loop, a shallow, dried pool at the base already, and overflowed onto the floor where his feet tread. He dodged the painful burn of the wax with a queer step to his right, and continued his survey. No suspicious beings lurked here, there, or anywhere in the room and left the mage utterly stumped. Maybe— he pondered inwardly—Gale hadn't been lying that time, and with the slip of a sideways glance in her direction he sighed. He sauntered back toward the stairs, somewhat defeated.

Jack snorted against Gale's nightshirt, a small laugh that caught Garth's attention, making him turn around and face his young apprentice with his candle outstretched in question. "It was the bed; just moved around a bit to get comfortable." Gale answered curtly for him before he had a chance to question, her face a slight orange in the light of her own candle. And so Garth departed and wished her a good night, his disappearance down the stairs a relief as the light of his candle that bounced off the walls faded.

Garth was unpleased—Gale could tell- by the look etched on his wearied face, unable to fathom that she could in fact be holding conversation with her doll. "He does not believe you?" Jack forced with his sudden reanimation, and pulled himself off her with a huff of disgust, a slight hint of intrigue laced in his words. Curiosity, it must have been. She snuck a look back at the stairwell and returned her wide gaze to the doll standing on the book before her, blowing a raspberry with her lips with the hope that deep down Garth was no longer listening.

Something of that magnitude would be most impossible to conceal. Jack would be heard, or both of them for that matter, and Garth would once again race up the stairs and demand of Gale the knowledge of who she was conversing with. He would never accept it as fact, and Gale highly doubted he would let her out any time soon to explore the forests of Brightwood. "No, it's not that." She corrected at Jack's assumption, "He caught me talking to my friend Fortenbrasse a while ago down on the embankment." The doll stood silent on her book, his head bowed in a motion that begged for her to continue, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "I told my master I was talking to the flowers, being afraid of getting in trouble for talking to a friends who just so happens to be in the Assassination Society." Not that it would be the first time—she thought sourly. "That's why. But I knew Fortenbrasse long before he joined…"

The words of the final page under Jack's feet were illegible at the angle Gale now viewed them under, and forced the book up into the air with a swift yank, the book now suspended above her lap. Jack tumbled ungracefully onto the bed in a dramatic roll, head over heels and so on, down her sheets until he sat in the dead centre, his head burrowed in a coil of cloth and his voice muffled. "The Assassination Society?" he piped in feigned ignorance of the action taken against him, and pulled his head up to face the towering form of Gale. "T'would seem someone must be resourceful, _powerful even_, to—"

Gale cut him off within the fraction of a second with her hand shoved over the entirety of his face, "You're not going to take his body, Jack." Her voice, her tone serious and deep, showed she did not jest with the once proud warrior, her shoulders drawn back and her mouth fallen into a deep line that creased her cheeks rather unattractively. "Despite his affiliation, he'd never become corrupt with their or _your_ influence. That much I can assure you."

Jack laughed heartily at her measure of spunk and vigor, her attitude a most refreshing change in comparison to those he dealt with in the past.

Bounding up the bed in wide strides, he leapt atop the book that was seated again in Gale's lap and clawed his way up the front of her nightshirt until he found his hands fumbled in her short, fallen hair with his feet upon her left shoulder. "You would be surprised." He cooed into her ear, heeding finally her warning about Garth. "Those I happen to attract say, in the beginning, they are strong of will, but when presented with such an undeniable power…" his words hung heavily in the air like his weight against Gale's head, letting his point sink in without the need to finish.

"If you're so concerned about a body, why don't you just make one?" Gale quoted unexpectedly, and grabbed Jack around his waist to pry him from her hair with ease, his hold slipping away without resistance. She set her book on the floor, as not to disturb Garth further, and slid it under the bed with her foot, then repositioned herself to sit back where she once was. Still like a statue, stiff and absentminded, Jack stood where Gale had placed him without as much as a word.

"Make one…" he whispered to himself under his breath and broke the frozen stance he held. Was it that he thought she was joking with him? Was that the reason for such a bizarre reaction? Gale righted herself on the bed and drew up her sheets as whilst Jack strode across them in a trance-like state, his eyes set firmly on her and never shifting. "How and where may I accomplish this?"

"Uh…" Gale tried, and searched for the words that would help her explain what she meant. "Well, a dead body or something along those lines… just reanimate it, or…" she drew off, finding it hard to say what she so dearly wanted.

The pillow sitting at the head of her bed puffed when her head made contact, her sheets pulled tight overtop her like a warm veil to protect her against the cold of the night. Jack somehow stood overtop Gale after she lay down, and took an authoritative posture with his cloak wrapped about his neck and shoulders. "Tell me more." He insisted, no, demanded. The baldric fastened around his chest jingled as he leaned forward and placed his hands behind him, meeting Gale's wide eyes with a trusting glance.

Nervously, she replied, pulling the sheets higher so they sat just above her nose, Jack's body jolted forward in a movement that was not his own. "I-I wouldn't know." Gale stuttered, which in turn made the megalomaniacal doll chuckle, thinking he was the sole cause that brought a sense of fear and terror into her. "There are graveyards you could visit; find a body and whatnot. The only one worth mention is back in Bowerstone, where I got you."

Gale settled under the covers of her bed comfortably, snuggled against her sheets with a flutter of her tired eyes and a relieved sigh. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep." In the flash of her arm, she collected Jack from on top of her and dragged him under the covers, held against the pillow with her arm.

The wicked doll cried out in disapproval, twists and turns of his body made in a vain chance to thwart Gale's hold on him. "Foul, infantile child!" Jack insulted, aggravated with the young girl's decision to force him to stay with her.

"Hush up and go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow about graverobbing…"

The room grew quiet in due time and even the tantrum Jack threw died out into oblivion, only the comforting sound of crickets heard outside the open balcony door.

"What Garth doesn't know won't hurt him…" Gale told herself before drifting off into the land of sleep, Jack's laugh haunting her dreams.

Next Chapter:

Ramblings of a Madman


End file.
